Hands to Hearts
by robspace54
Summary: Doc Martin and Louisa are on the trip of a lifetime in this post-Season 5 story. Possible SPOILERs, but I will try to keep it light. Note that the rating is an 'M' based on the website publication rules.
1. Chapter 1

Hands to Hearts

by robspace54

**The characters, places and situations of _Doc Martin,_ are owned by Buffalo Pictures. This story places no claim of remuneration or ownership, nor do I make any attempt to infringe upon any rights of the owners or producers.**

Chapter 1 – In Flight

Louisa held my hand and I wiggled my fingers feeling sweat pool between our flesh where we touched.

"Problem, Martin?" she asked into my ear, slightly yelling over the drone of the jet engines.

"No." I reached up and increased the airflow from the comfort vent. Louisa was dressed far more sensibly than I for the flight. She was wearing cropped trousers, a light blouse, and sandals, while I wore my usual gray suit, white shirt, military stripe tie and brilliantly polished black shoes.

"You're sure?" She pushed to her right, shoving her elbow into my side over the armrest between us. "Sorry about the cramped seats."

"Well, what do you expect booking the tickets so late? There was no way we could have got First Class tickets a week before."

"Well, you don't have to be cross with me. I did keep asking you if we should make this trip." She whipped her head towards the aircraft window. "I see the coast. Won't be long now." She turned to me and smiled, dropping my hand and running her fingers up my trouser leg.

I squirmed involuntarily and checked my watch. "Hmm. In spite of leaving the gate late, they seem to have made up time."

"British Air is doing a great job on this flight. And it's only a three hour flight."

"Heathrow's always a mess though."

"Oh! So it's my fault that the bus from the hotel was running slow?"

I looked at her shiny lips, pressed together, under the flashing eyes and I sensed her irritation. "No. I generally…" my voice petered out, "try to be early when flying."

"Martin." She sighed. "You can't expect that things will always go your way, will they?"

I properly read the look in her eyes and her tone of voice and kept my mouth shut. Going my way. That is an interesting phrase. _Going my way_. If things had gone my way, I'd have remained as a surgeon in London, would never had to take up retraining as a GP and ended up in the village; the village were I met Louisa Glasson. That thought started an entire cascade of memories of frustration, fear, sadness and gladness. "No, I don't expect that and I know they won't always do so." And if things had gone my way, I'd not have become a father or had the lovely Louisa sitting next to me.

She snuggled up to my arm and yawned. "I'm tired."

"Yes." I tried to stretch out my legs but the airline seat in front of me cut off circulation as the seat frame compressed my lower legs and knees. I reclined the seat back slightly to ease the pressure when a gruff Brit voice behind me hissed in my ear.

"Hey, mate! Give it a rest, will you?"

I cranked my head around and saw a red-faced and bull-necked man in a rugby shirt staring at me, as the veins in his neck bulged out but I refrained from answering.

"The wife," the man went on forcefully, "she's not having a good time, being preggers and all."

The couple seated behind us were expecting a child and from the looks of her expanded abdomen the woman's due date was three weeks ago.

The man nattered on. "I told her this trip last minute might not be that easy, with the baby being so close."

"Oh, Alf! Give it a rest! This thing won't be ready to pop out for another two months," said the woman who'd been making a career out of traipsing back and forth to the loo, hauling her rotund figure up the narrow aisle time and again. And each time, coming or going, she'd butted me with her breast, stomach, or bum.

Louisa gripped my hand and tugged on it. "Don't," she whispered.

I stifled my natural instinct to lash out and slowly eased the seat back to a more upright position, feeling pain lance up my leg again.

Louisa patted my arm. "Good." She turned and peered through the gap between the seat backs. "Your first?"

"Oh, yeah," said the woman, who grunted as she sat. "Mum kept telling me to avoid the big months in the summer and not to travel too late."

"Oh, Deirdre, don't go on about that!" said her red-aced hubby. "This is when I get holiday from the plant!"

"Humph. Well the next time Alf you can be the one that gets pregnant!" She crossed her arms across her chest angrily.

"I'm a mum too," said Louisa, trying to keep the conversation no so touchy.

"Boy or girl?" the woman asked.

"A boy. He's staying with his aunt while we travel."

"Oh good for you! That's sweet. I suppose his aunty is all huggy-kissy? And she had oodles of kiddies of her own to raise so she's well versed in caring for baby?"

I turned my head and faced her. "No, my aunt is a Criminal Psychiatrist and has never been married or pregnant."

"Oh," said the woman.

I turned my head back to the front.

"Martin, that _was_ a bit harsh," mumbled Louisa.

"But factual."

She shook her head at me and rolled her eyes. "Yes it was that."

The plane droned on as northern Spain expanded out the window with the Pyrenees Mountains on our left. "Won't be long," as I shifted in my seat, my six foot three inch frame less than fitting the confines of the aircraft.

"The guide book says it will take about a half hour from the airport to the resort." She fumbled in the seat pocket and pulled out a book and turned to a well thumbed page. "Doesn't that look nice?"

I glanced at the page, the glossy spread showing the resort and I wrinkled my nose. "Yes."

"I'm so glad that they forgot to return your refund and you were able to get this week."

"After I yelled and screamed at them."

"Well, I think it's _very_ nice, though, the two of us getting away like this." She closed the book with a snap and rested her head on my shoulder. "Don't you?"

My mind flashed on the chaos we had left in our wake, hoping that Chris Parsons would speak to me when I returned, having given him precious little time to find a locum. "Yes."

"Martin?"

"Yes, Louisa?"

"Do you think James Henry will miss us?"

I pushed my cheek against her soft hair, where it rested on my shoulder. "Yes. I do."

She sighed and took my hand in hers once more. "I will miss him."

I squeezed her hand. "Aunt Ruth will take good care of him."

"I know. It's just that he is so young."

"It's more than likely that Aunt Ruth will miss us, far more than James will miss his mum."

She looked up at me and caught my eye. "And he won't miss his father?"

I gulped at the memory of our son crying as we handed him off to my aunt yesterday as we left Port Wenn to catch the train at Bodmin Station. "He may."

Louisa hugged my arm to her warm body. "I'm certain he will, aren't you?"

I ignored her question and looked down at the sparkle of the large diamond ring on her finger. "The sun makes your ring sparkle."

She held out her left hand in the sunlight. "Yes it does!" Louisa stretched her neck and kissed my cheek. "Thank you Martin. It is lovely." She turned her hand and the facets flashed. "As much as I liked your grandmother's ring… well, this one is special." She kissed me again so I turned my head and planted my lips on hers.

"Hey! No smooching on the plane, mate!" admonished the boorish man behind us. "If I'm not getting any, you lot aren't either!" The man pulled himself upright and peered over the seat back. "Nice ring."

Our lips parted reluctantly.

"Right," said Louisa but she kept holding my hand.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2 – Problems

The flight went on for another thirty minutes and the cabin crew scurried about collecting cups and debris, and then they made the usual pre-landing announcements. I groaned as I had to lever my seat completely upright.

"Won't be long now," said Louisa.

"Yeah. Thrilling."

"Do you have to be so grumpy, Martin? It's almost like you don't want to be here – with me."

"That's not it."

"Well what then?"

"Nothing."

"Oh, come on. It can't be _nothing_. Tell me, after all we are…" she wiggled her left hand in front of my face.

I sighed at Port Wenn's Head Teacher. Should I tell her that I had an aversion to flying? But not for the reasons she might expect. She sat next to me expectantly waiting for an answer.

I opened my mouth. "People."

"People?"

"Yes, people." I groaned as I wriggled in the too tight seat confines.

"Martin? What are you talking about?"

"See that man up the aisle? Four rows up?"

Louisa craned her neck. "Which one?"

"On the aisle, blue shirt."

"Yes?" she whispered. "What's the matter with him?"

"I can tell that his fingers are very nicotine stained, he was wheezing in the departure lounge and as he boarded, and he's now extremely fidgety. He also drank five cups of coffee in the last hour and a half."

Louisa pursed her lips. "So he smokes and he drinks coffee. So do many people."

"I suspect he's about to explode unless he smokes a cigarette. Filthy habit! His coronary arteries are likely damaged as well as his lungs. Likely to have a myocardial infarction in the next few minutes! And the woman behind us," I whispered in her ear, "she claims her fetus is due in two months. Yet based on the size of her pregnant abdomen and bust line plus her swollen fingers and ankles she has gestational diabetes, or I'm a plumber."

"Are you going to tell her," she looked up the cabin. "And that man?"

I nodded at the flight attendant, a very florid looking woman aged about forty I'd say, who was sweaty and pale who wobbled from side to side as she walked towards us. "And here comes another one."

"What's the matter with her?" Louisa asked.

"Oh, God!" I exclaimed when I saw the flight attendant start to weave in ever increasing circles. I snapped open my seat belt, stood up and forced the flight attendant to sit down in my seat.

"Sir? Whatever are you doing? Let go of me!" She shrieked.

"I am a _doctor_," I hissed at her. "Sit still," I commanded. I saw her name badge read 'Allison.'

"So?" Her eyes bulged out at me and I could see sweat glistening on her neck and running down into her collar. "Let go of me! You have no right…"

Louisa grabbed at my arm. "Martin! Let her go!"

Passengers about us whipped their heads upright and started paying attention. A few mutters of confusion and question flew my way.

"I _am_ a doctor," I said loudly, taking the woman's wrist in my fingers and starting to take a pulse. "You're feeling faint, unsteady and dizzy, and you are sweating," I informed her. "Am I right?"

She wiggled in my grasp while she protested. "No! Let me go! I'm fine!"

I put my face inches from her and peered at her staring eyes, seeing two flight attendants heading my way with concerned faces. "_No_ you're _not_. Your pulse is unsteady and weak. You were moments away from fainting."

"Martin! Let go of her!" repeated Louisa, now in a full panic. "You _don't_ have to do this. You're embarrassing yourself," her voice fell, "and me."

Backup arrived and they were full of questions. "Sir! Sir? Do you have a problem?" the older attendant asked me, her eyes glaring.

"I am a doctor!" I exclaimed. "This woman was _about to_ collapse," I told them.

"No I wasn't!" yelled the sweaty and shaky attendant.

"Leave off her, mate!" said the rugby player, now weighing in. "What's got into you?"

"Shush!" I scanned my audience. "This flight attendant, name of Amelia, was about to collapse. Better to sit down than to fall down! I suspect you got little sleep last night, skipped breakfast, and are about to collapse due to hypoglycemia and fatigue!"

Allison wrenched her arm away. "I'm fine. I'm fine, really I am! And my name is Allison you tosser!"

"Let her go, Martin!" Louisa barked, adding to the din. "No need to make a spectacle!"

"Is that what you want?" I asked the seated woman. "Rather be lying in a heap, with your head split open?"

"Are you threatening her?" asked the third flight attendant. "You've got problems!"

"No, _she_ has," I said still feeling her pulse. "I'll need your onboard medical kit."

"Stand back sir," commanded the older cabin attendant, with a menacing tone in her voice. She now was by my side with a belligerent look on her.

"I'm fine!" the wobbly woman stammered. "Make him leave me alone!"

I dropped my hands and backed away from her. "Your funeral."

Louisa's pleading eyes and face had now turned into crimson embarrassment. "Sorry. I am _so sorry_. He _is_ a doctor… Does this all the time..."

Allison stood and clambered upright into the aisle. "I'm fine," she announced. "Just a bit rushed to… day…" she said, her voice faltering as her eyes rolled up into their sockets and she fell straight down a dead weight.

"Told you," I said in dismal satisfaction as I caught her under the arms.

Shouts of exclamation followed the scene, as I and the other two attendants lowered her to the cabin floor.

"Are you really a doctor?" asked the red-faced man.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3 - Diagnosis

The two flight attendants and I managed to half drag and half carry the fallen one to the galley, where we could stretch her out so I could examine her.

The on-board medical kit held the basics and the sphygmomanometer confirmed that she did have low blood pressure. Elevating her feet on two rolled blankets helped that a bit. She remained unresponsive for several minutes then her eyelids started to flutter.

I felt a hand on my shoulder and it was Louisa.

"Here, Martin. One of the passengers is diabetic and gave me these." She gave me a packet of glucose tablets.

I examined the packet. Gluco-can it read. I opened it and shook out two tablets. "These will help." The patient was rousing so I stuffed them under her tongue. "I am Doctor Martin Ellingham and you have fainted. I am giving you a quick carbohydrate boost with these tablets. Hold them under your tongue. Those will work better than orange juice which can cause a sugar crash."

The bleary eyes below me started to focus more. "So… you're… a doc… after all?" she murmured.

"Yes and a fine one!" answered Louisa who looked embarrassed as I gave her a grim stare.

"Yes. Yes, I am," I echoed. "A doctor."

Louisa touched my back. "Well, I'll leave you to it." She walked away, her pony tail swishing, and I was certain that any normal male would be watching her backside as she went up the aisle.

One of the flight attendants called the cockpit and declared the medical issue. Shortly the pilot announced that we being vectored straight in, so landing would be in a few minutes. That one went back up the cabin to prep the passengers for landing.

"You need anything?" asked the younger attendant who crouched by my side. Her blue eyes reminded me of Louisa, but her surgically enhanced chest did not.

"No. I think it best that she remain supine. Can we do that?"

"Suppose so." She bent over the head of her crewmate. "Allison, sweetie? You feeling any better?" She brushed the hair from the woman's eyes.

"Yes," the patient groaned. "But my right knee is hurting."

"Oh, you must have cracked it on an armrest when you went down," the attendant looked at the knee in question where a bruise was coming up. "You're amazing," she whispered to me, fluttering her false eyelashes.

"No," I said, "I'm a doctor."

"I do like amazing men," she gushed. "_Tall_ amazing men."

I sneered at her. "Perhaps if you have taken notice that your teammate was less than fit, this would not have happened!"

"She did complain about a headache and feeling tired. But we've had back to back flights for the last few days."

"Ah."

"But we get a layover today. We'll be at the Gran Resort Blanco – in Santa Marcos. Lovely spot." She crouched closer and lowered her voice. "And I do like tall and strong doctors… Hm?" She pushed out her considerable chest at me and pointed to her gold nametag. "I'm Sherri. Sherri North."

"Good for you," I sniffed.

The woman moved away. "Oh, you're one of those uptight ones."

I turned and stared at her wondering what to say. Finally I held my left hand in front of her showing her the slim platinum wedding band on the ring finger. "Yes and I am married."

"Oh? To the skinny brunette?" she sniffed.

"Yes, to Louisa," I said proudly. "Now, if you don't mind an interruption of your personal dating quest, may I suggest that we prepare Amelia for landing?" I wondered if Louisa would take being called skinny a compliment or a criticism. I decided to let that go.

"Allison," said the woman on the floor.

"Whatever and call for an ambulance at the gate." I took the blood pressure once more. "Nearly normal."

"Thanks Doc," said Allison.

"Just doing my job."

The flight crew sat down and strapped in. The older attendant went to the front of the cabin, but the other stayed with me and the patient. I crouched on the floor by my patient, wedging myself between the galley walls. The attendant with the overflowing chest leaned towards me from where she was buckled into a fold down seat. "Doc?"

I didn't want to speak to the woman. "Yes?"

"I have this thing on my arm," she held out her left arm, and pulled back the coat and shirt sleeve. She pointed to a flat and brown spot 4 millimeters across halfway between wrist and elbow. It contrasted by several shades with the tanned skin surrounding. "Seems to be nothing, but I just have to scratch it sometimes."

I peered at it and took stock of the generally tanned nature of the woman. "You sun bathe?"

She nodded. "Every chance I get. I'll be on the beach this afternoon!"

"Do you dye your hair or is it naturally blonde?"

"What? Oh, well, I do touch it up, but, yes I am a blonde." She said proudly, primping at her long golden locks.

"And your eyes are natural blue in color?"

"Yes," she fluttered her over made up eyes at me.

"Don't."

"What?"

I nodded at the spot. "That is likely an actinic keratosis."

"A whatsis?"

"Overexposure to the sun can cause these spots as you have, especially those who are blonde, blue eyed, and with fair complexion. Do you have any more?"

"Is it bad?" she started to scratch at the spot. "Not that I know of."

"It can be. Technically it is a precancerous lesion." The plane banked, the engines throttled down and I heard variously clunking noises; the landing gear going down I presumed.

"Cancer?" the woman shouted.

"You should see a dermatologist. To have it evaluated."

"Cancer? I've got cancer?"

"No. You do _not_. The spot can be removed by freezing, electro-cautery, surgical excision, or chemical peel. Best though to remove the tissue for a biopsy."

"Would that," she gulped her face now looking panicky, "leave a scar?" Now she was shouting.

"Yes," I answered as the wheels touched down with a screech.

The plane shuddered to a halt in a minute and a few clapped, at least those going on holiday clapped, I supposed.

The flight attendant sat in her seat with a scared look on her face, clutching her arm to her chest. "Cancer?"

I shook my head side-to-side. "See your doctor." I checked Amelia on the floor. "You're doing better."

The woman on the floor took my hand. "Sorry I yelled at you Doc."

I inclined my head. "It's my job." I stood up, brushed at dust on my trousers and walked up the aisle to help Louisa gather our things.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4 – Taxi Ride

Louisa fastened her seatbelt in the back seat of the tiny taxi cab. "Martin, I have to say that you had me worried for a moment."

"About what?" I tapped the driver on the shoulder. "Aqui." I showed him the address. "You know where we are going?"

"Si, senor! Inmediatamente!" The man answered, revving his engine and plunged the car into the churning mass of traffic outside Barcelona Airport with a clash of grinding gears and the booming of a holed exhaust.

Louisa touched my arm. "On the plane when you jumped out of your seat… well, it scared me a little."

"I couldn't very well let the woman fall down and hurt herself could I?"

"No," said Louisa. "Still it was a bit awkward."

I stayed silent taking this comment from her not as criticism but as an observation.

She clasped a hand on my knee. "It was brilliant, though! I got quite a few approving looks as we deplaned." Smiling at me she reminded of another taxi ride, but instead of a grey Cornish sky overhead it was a brilliant blue, with bright sunlight beating down. The air from the open window whipped a few strands of hair over her face which she brushed away.

"The flight crew was thankful. Sorry I had to fill out the paper work at the desk and we missed the shuttle bus to the resort."

"Oh, that's ok! I'm enjoying the fresh air, aren't you?"

I felt sweat start to break out on my back as the temperature was quite high in the back of the little car. I loosened my tie slightly.

Louisa reached over and loosened the knot a lot more. "We're on holiday, Martin! Relax, can't you?"

My hands flew up to tighten the knot, but something in her eye made me stop. "Yes, we are aren't we?" I dropped my hands and Louisa captured one of them running her fingers back and forth over my palm. I looked sharply at her and caught her smiling, so I did the best I could to remain calm.

"And Martin," she whispered, "best of all is that we are completely and utterly on our own! No one from home to bother us, and there's not a soul here that we know."

"No sickening patients or complaining parents… or fussy babies." I agreed.

"I will miss James," she said and then laughed. "Five glorious days alone." She squeezed my hand.

"James will be fine," I reassured her. "Ruth will take good care of him."

"I do hope so. Bert said he'd pop in on Ruth to see if she needed help with the baby."

I grunted at the thought of Bert helping to care for an infant, especially _our_ infant.

"Oh, Martin. Bert just wants to help!" she sighed. "Now we're on holiday so relax. Get in the mood!"

"Inglés?" asked the driver.

"Yes," I answered him.

"Matrimonio?" yelled the driver over the noise of the bad exhaust on the taxi. The man was peeking at us in the rear view mirror. "You two…" he said in heavily accented English, "nuevo… married?" He held up his left hand and wiggled the fingers over his head. "Diamante?"

"Yes, yes, we are!" replied Louisa.

"Congratulations senor and senora! Welcome to Espana!"

"Thanks!" laughed Louisa. "Yes we _are_ married. Aren't we?"

I nodded my head, feeling uncomfortable discussing our personal lives with this person. "Yes," I said but rubbed her arm.

From the look on Louisa's face she was so happy, so I decided not to let my anxiety intrude. I sat there sweating, with a crick in my neck from the roof pushing on my head, sweat pooling in my boxers and shoes, all the while as Louisa enjoyed the ride.

The driver laughed. "I drive faster, si? You want to… get to resort, muy rapido – very fast?" He twisted his head around and leered at us.

"No!" I screamed as the car darted from side to side in the crowded traffic on the highway. 'Pay attention to your driving!"

"Mi apologies!" said the man as he started to drive the car once more with a halfway attention span. "We have many Inglés come to Valencia for our beaches, sun, the oranges!" He twisted in his seat taking another look at Louisa's trim thighs in her cropped trousers.

I leaned forward and barked in his ear, "Mind the driving and not my wife? Oaf!"

The man sheepishly turned his eyes back to the road.

"Martin," Louisa whispered. "No need to shout, is there? Relax."

"I'll relax when we get out of this taxi and the maniac driving it is long gone," I told her. "He probably makes the run from the airport only."

The man glanced back at us. "No, senor! I live in Santa Marcos! I drive you again maybe?"

I groaned. "God, I hope not."

Louisa gave me a shot in the ribs with an elbow. "Maybe you will! That would be nice!"

The man pointed to the hillsides along the road. "Oranges! We call them naranjas! So, so sweet! And the ocean, is so azul! Blue, yes!"

I looked to the left past Louisa's bobbing head seeing sunlight flashing on waves, a few fishing boats or whatever, and beachfront buildings chock-a-block. The air smelled of salt and oranges, as the man had exclaimed.

"It _is_ beautiful," said Louisa looked towards the ocean. "So beautiful." She turned to face me. "Isn't it?"

I could not help but think that the ocean was the exact shade of her eyes. "Yes. Yes, it… is. And you are too."

"Thank you Martin," she whispered.

"Senora! Senor! We are almost here!" the driver shouted.

The car exited the highway, turned left at a stop sign, drove two hundred yards past stucco buildings with red tile roofs and passed through a gated entrance. The sign read _El Gran Resort Blanco_ in script two feet high on a slightly Moorish looking wall.

The entrance drive wound past lush vegetation and palms ending at an arched overhang where a skinny bellman slouched in the shade of what appeared to be the main building.

The taxis screeched a halt, almost causing facial laceration of the back of the driver's seat he'd stopped so quickly. He sprang from the cab and scurried about flinging open the doors, taking Louisa by the hand and lifting her out, and in a flash pulling our luggage form the boot.

"Senor and senora! You are here! The best resort on the beach! You like!" He stood before us smiling. "You need taxi! You call?" He gave me a business card which I stuffed in a pocket.

Louisa stood in the shaded drive looked at the flowers growing along the verge, the breeze ruffling the collar of her blouse. "This looks wonderful, doesn't it Martin?"

I smiled at my wife. "Yes, it does."


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5 – Number 13

After the taxi sped away in a cloud of smoke and blaring noise, the desk clerk woke up enough to check us in. When he examined my passport, his eyes opened wide and he fled from the desk like his hair was on fire. "Senor Catalao!" he shouted as he bolted away disappearing into a back office.

"Now what is that about? What have _you_ done, Martin?" Louisa asked.

"Nothing," I lied as I had recognized the name.

In a few seconds the clerk returned red-faced and trailed by a man in a suit, and this one was all smiles. "Senor Doctor Ellingham!" the suited one called to me. "You have arrived! At last it is _so very nice_ to meet you!"

The man in the suit came around the desk and grasped my hand as if we were old friends. "Now you are here!" he started to pump my arm like he needed water from an ancient kitchen pump. "And this…" be smiled even more, "This is Senora Ellingham?" he dropped my hand and threw his arms about Louisa and kissed her on both cheeks. "Muy bonita! Very beautiful! I am sooooo glad to meet you after all this time!"

Louisa recoiled in his embrace. "Hello? Uhm, Martin?"

"Excuse me!" he went on in excellent English. "I am Senor Luis Marco Philip Catalao! I run the resort. Your dear husband and I have been corresponding these many months by email and telephone and now you are here at last! I am so honored to finally greet you at our humble resort!" he dropped his arms and swept into a deep bow. "My casa es su casa! My house is your house! When I heard that your wedding was delayed, _naturally_ I held the reservation for you! Until today! And now you may begin!"

"Begin?" Louisa asked bewildered. "What is this all about?"

"Uhmm… I was _trying_ to get my deposit back…" I said but Catalao cut me off.

"Yes, yes! Delayed, but not cancelled. But now! Today," he kissed his fingers and threw it to the air dramatically, "we have the finest accommodations the resort has to offer for my old friend Senor Doctor Ellingham! Now how may I serve you?" Now he stood there with hands pressed together.

"You can hurry things along and get us our room!" I turned to Louisa. "I'm certain you need lunch?"

"That would be nice," she said. "But I would like to see the room first."

The manager brightened. "Since we have had such long business dealings, we are upgrading you from a room to special abode!" He started a rapid fire conversation with the clerk which led to many flying hands, raised voices, and tapping at computer keys.

With the clerk shrugging in a seemingly universal component of human body language, the manger pushed the man aside and plied the keys on the computer himself.

Louisa waggled her handbag at my side. "Is there a problem?" she muttered.

"God knows. Can we please have our room, now? Or are you going to keep pounding that computer into submission?" I asked in a demanding tone.

"Ah. Uno momento, Senor! Ah! Ah! Yes, here is the solution!" the manager exclaimed. "We have a lovely… how you say, cabina?"

"Cabina?" asked Louisa.

"No, no! Not cabina – es bungalow! Yes, _bungalow_! You will like it! Very nice! Fantastico!" The man was all teeth and smooth oil and I hated him the longer I had to look at him. He was probably a used auto salesman on the side.

Louisa brightened. "That does sound nice, doesn't it, Martin?"

"Yeah. Great." By now my shirt was nearly soaked through in the heat and my socks and boxers were sodden as well. "Can we have that – and quickly?"

"Si. Si. Inmediatamente. Right away!" The man started screaming at the bellman who shuffled towards us in a slow motion crawl. The man was rail thin, looking like he weighed about 50 kilograms and yet was nearly my height.

The man struggled to pick up Louisa's suitcase and I rapidly took mine rather than have the man suffer a coronary before my eyes.

The bellman was not that old, so I wondered if he had an underlying medical condition. I was considering this when the manager swept from behind the desk again and bowing and scraping herded us along, the creaky bellman trailing slowly along behind. The manager had now taken Louisa's elbow and was escorting her like _he_ was her man, but that is their way.

Catalao waved his hands about excitedly pointing out an open-air restaurant, two pools - one salt water and one fresh, a dock where small boats were tied up, an expansive beach and a long line of small lodges tucked back under palm trees, well away from the main resort building.

The manager moved swiftly and the bellman was left in his dust and I hoped we'd not need a search party to find out luggage. After this fast paced stroll along a gravel path, the manager braked to a halt. "Aqui! _Here_ is your home away from home!" He bowed and pointed to the door. "Here is your home for the rest of the week!"

The cottage was built of stucco with a wooden door reinforced with large iron bolts and had the obligatory tile roof of course. From the outside it looked adequate. My eyes fell on a plaque anchored to the wall. My eyes bulged when I read the number. "Thirteen?"

"Si! Numero trece! Very nice bungalow!"

"You're putting us in bungalow number thirteen! God! What an absolutely wonderful omen that is!" I said snidely.

Louisa kept smiling but said "Martin!" through gritted teeth. "This looks fine, very fine," she added in her placating way.

"You don't have another?" I bristled.

Catalao pursed his lips. "No, Senor Doctor Ellingham. We are full up, yes?"

I sighed. "All right."

The man whisked out a key, worked at the lock and bungalow number 13 was opened to us.

Louisa stepped inside and shrieked.

"Louisa!" I shouted and pushed past the manager. My eyes were at first confounded by the dark confines after the bright sun outside but found Louisa standing calmly in the middle of a very large room.

"Oh, Martin!" she came to my side and took my arm. "This is wonderful! So large! And I love the furnishings!"

I scanned the room. "Looks alike a hotel room to me." It had furniture, the walls were papered in some sort of fabric, and the floor was all tile.

The manager followed us in all teeth and wide open eyes. "Senora, she like? You have an extra large bed, a mini fridge, color television, sitting area here with large sofa and chairs. There is a table and more chairs on the covered veranda. Plenty of windows! And here," he swept across the room. "El bano, all very modern! Shower and tub! Two sinks! And the bathtub, has what you say, jets! Water jets in the side, just here and here! Very modern. All new!"

Louisa looked at the facilities. "Goodness! I think you could fit your entire cottage inside this one room, Martin! I like it!" She crossed to the huge bed and sat on it. "Feels nice," she ran her hand over the flower print duvet.

I looked about the room and saw a small lizard scamper up the wall and out a window. "God! Hot and cold running lizards," I mumbled.

"What's that Martin?" Louisa pressed a switch on the wall and two large ceiling fans under the vaulted ceiling began to turn stirring up the humid air. "Fans! I love it! Don't you think this is wonderful?"

I looked at Louisa, her face beaming, and I ducked my head.

Senor Catalao pressed two keys into my palm and shook my hand, just as the bellman struggled to the door, wheezing.

"You find things here all wonderful, yes?" the manager asked and I bit my tongue, just wanting him to be gone.

Louisa came to my side and pressed herself against my side. "Martin this is marvelous! You've really outdone yourself." She kissed my cheek and I felt myself blush.

The bellman was assisted by the manager to settle our cases, then he showed us how the television worked, demonstrated the voice mail feature of the telephone, and was determined to demonstrate every possible switch, knob, drawer and cabinet, but after I pressed twenty Euros into his hand the two left smiling and bowing.

As I door closed after them, Louisa came to me again and took my hand. "Alone at last," she said dreamily and started to strip away my sodden suit coat, when my mobile rang.

She looked at me with alarm. "Oh, no! Who could be calling? Think there might be something wrong back home? With James?"

I rolled my eyes, reluctantly pulled out my mobile and answered, "Ellingham," in a disgusted tone.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6 – Regrets

"Martin?" said an aged voice testily.

"Hello Auntie Ruth," I said to my elderly aunt.

"I was waiting for a call from you to say you got there safely," she complained. "I tried to call your bride, but she failed to respond. What's the sense in the woman having a mobile if she doesn't turn it on?"

Louisa waited impatiently by my side. "Who is it?"

I mouthed the words _Aunt Ruth._ "We're fine," I spoke into the phone. "Just arrived. How is James?"

"You know, I swear the little bugger smiled at me last night, but that's likely just gas."

"No. No. He does smile. I've seen it."

"Really. Well beats me, but what do I know about babies? May I speak to Louisa please?"

"It's Ruth. Wants to speak to you." I gave her the phone. "Your mobile was turned off."

"Oh dear," Louisa said. "Hello Aunt Ruth! Yes, we're here. Bit of excitement on the plane but we're safe and sound and at the resort."

Louisa listened for a few seconds. "Oh? I didn't know that. Thanks. How's James? Is he feeding all right and sleeping as well?"

I took off my damp suit coat and tie. Louisa smiled at me or at something Ruth said. Since I was certain the women would be speaking for a few minutes, I opened my suitcase and started to unpack. I put my things in the lower bureau drawers, leaving the top three for Louisa. I hung my three suits and spare shirts in the wardrobe and took my toiletry pack into the loo. When I finished, Louisa was saying goodbye into the phone.

"Goodbye! Mummy loves you! Bye!" She closed my mobile with a snap and handed it over. "Just checking in. I think Ruth is a bit nervous around James. But he's fine and so is she." She sniffed a little and wiped her eye.

"Are you all right?" I asked.

"Fine, fine. I see you're unpacking."

"Yes. Just finished." I handed her a tissue.

She blew her nose. "Thanks. I didn't think that…" she bit her lip. "How could we do it, Martin? Run off and leave our little baby behind?" Now she was hugging herself and rocking side to side.

"Louisa. We did it because we got married. And James Henry is fine. We'll be home in a few days." I looked at her closely. "Are you well?"

She looked back with tear filled eyes. "First time we've been away and you think it's perfectly ok?"

"It does feel… odd… not to have him nearby."

"And you don't miss him?"

"Not exactly with sadness… but we can call him each night, if that makes you feel better."

She sighed. "Sorry Martin. Nervous mum syndrome." She wiped at her face. "I'll get used to it, but he is a just baby."

"Louisa! James is fine, you are fine, I am fine, and Aunt Ruth can take perfectly good care of him. Morwenna has also promised to get a ride out to the farm to help Ruth once or twice!"

"Martin, why are you shouting?"

"I'm, not… yes, I am. Sorry."

Louisa gave me a hug. "Poor Martin. You're upset too."

What I was, was hot – too hot. "Is there air conditioning in here?"

"Suppose we need to turn that on." She ran her hands down my shirt. "But I think you need a dry shirt, don't you? And get into some cooler clothing?" She fanned herself. "It is hot in here."

I peeled her off me and opened two screened windows. "Now we'll get some air."

Louisa looked at me for a minute. "You _did_ pack resort clothing?"

My wardrobe at home was not exactly suited for a resort holiday, but I had bought a few things for our trip last fall, which we just taking now. "Yes."

"If I know you, it will be all suits and ties, one vest and one swimsuit."

"I did bring some things for warmer weather but let me guess how many swimsuits you brought?"

"I uhm…" she stammered, " brought three."

"Three? You brought three swimsuits?"

"Martin, not all of us spend our entire lives wearing suits and ties. This is our holiday. Can't you relax a little?"

"I'll try."

She smiled. "Good. But I think I'll be taking you shopping."

I sneered. "Great."

"Oh," she patted my face, "don't be a grump. Now while I unpack, why don't you tell me why the resort manager got so flustered when we got here?"

I cleared my throat, not exactly wanting to discuss it. "Later."

She was bent over her case, taking out bits of brightly colored clothing. From what I could see there were many outfits, and not much material in any of them. "Go on."

I sighed. "Last year… when we…"

"Yes?" she turned and was holding a lacy apricot negligee of some sort and I felt myself blush.

"When we… didn't get married."

"Oh, that. Go on, then."

"I had never told you where we were to go at that time."

"That's right. You did say someplace warm."

"_This is _the place. And for nearly a year I've been trying to get my deposit back. Senor Catalao," I spat out the name sarcastically, "has been giving me the run around all this time. First he lost my email address, then he could not get through on the mobile, and then…"

"Think he was planning on keeping it?" Louisa shuffled a pile of under things which also made me blush. She turned around holding a pile of lacy bras which made my heart race.

"Uhmm uhm…" I stammered, "and when we decided to get married _and_ quickly, I sent him an email with a copy to my solicitor saying that we would be arriving this weekend and he had better have an accommodation ready for us or I would have him in court!"

She smiled and worked to put her garments into the bureau. "Ah. Well it only has been three weeks since Mrs. T decided to take James on his _little trip_."

The term _little trip _was the phrase that we had been using to describe the drug-induced Bodmin behavior of Mrs. Tishell. If I used the word kidnapping in Louisa's hearing she started bawling. The code phrase at least made the event discussable.

"Yes, three weeks." I sighed.

"And we've been married for one," she added.

"Yes."

"Any regrets Martin?"

Regrets? My God, of course I had regrets! "No," I lied. "None."

"Not a one?" Now she was holding up a flowered swimsuit with cutouts along the side and the briefest of straps up top.

I cleared my throat. "Yes."

"Oh. Really," she said her voice dropping and lip trembling.

"Yes. Just one."

She whirled with fire in her eyes. "And just what is that Martin? That you're trapped in Port Wenn with me and James and the rest of the barmy residents of the village!"

"Louisa," I answered softly. "Louisa…"

"Out with it Martin!"

I held up my hands. "My regret is…"

"Yes?" she spat out.

The images of her in her wedding dress last year, the green print maternity dress she wore when she returned to Port Wenn after months in London, the blue one she took to wearing late in pregnancy and was wearing the day James Henry was born flew into my head. There were more too; the two-tone striped shirt she wore the day we were engaged, the white and pink dress she was wearing when we rescued James from Mrs. T's clutches at The Castle, the yellow and white dressing gown she wore the morning after our engagement, the black dress at the concert, along with the wedding dress she wore in a repeat engagement last week plus the odd pirate costume or two.

"Come on, Martin!" Now _she_ was shouting.

I sighed. "My one regret… is… that we…" I took her hands in mine and rubbed the new diamond on her left hand, "waited so long."

That took the wind out of her sails. "Oh. Sorry… I… just naturally… thought…" She got teary eyed then. "Yeah, there is that."

We stood silently for a few seconds then she came into my arms and kissed me.

"Sorry. Me too, Martin. Me too," she said.

I held her close and enjoyed the moment.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7 – A Change of Clothes

Louisa ducked into the bathroom with an armful of clothing and I heard various thumps and bangs and finally she emerged wearing a swimsuit, flowered, full coverage top and bottom with a little skirt. She was holding a white mesh-like thing in one hand and flip-flops in the other. Her eyes bugged out when she saw me standing there in shirtsleeves and suit trousers. "Martin? I thought we would go to lunch?"

I crossed my arms. "Yes. I'm ready."

"You're wearing part of your suit, on holiday, for lunch, at a beach resort?"

"What's wrong with that?"

"I thought…" she bit her lip, "that we could relax here."

"Yes, we will."

She dropped her head into her hands. "Martin… oh Martin. You just don't get it do you?"

I turned to face a wall mounted mirror. "I look fine." I smoothed a wrinkle on the shirt. "Don't you think?"

Louisa started to laugh then checked herself. "I am sorry, Martin. Can I suggest that you put your swimsuit on?"

"You don't like my suit and shirt."

"Not at the beach." She crossed to the bureau. "Why don't you change? Your clothes, I mean." She pulled open the drawer and looked in. "That your swimsuit?"

I nodded. "I can change…"

She nodded. "Please? For me?"

I pursed my lips and pulled the garment and a vest from the drawer. "I'll change."

"Good, Martin. I'd like that."

I took the suit from her. "Then… I'll change."

"Good."

Safe in the bathroom I held the swimsuit up and sneered at it. The salesman at the store in Truro had assured me that this suit was adequate, but as I had not even tried it on, my doubts were stirred. "Bollocks." I peeled out of my clothing, snipped the tags free of the blue swimsuit and tugged it on. My reflection showed my codfish-like skin waiting to be assaulted by the Spanish sun. I sighed. The sun was not my friend and never had been. The white vest with dolphin shapes looked silly, I thought, but perhaps Louisa would like it. I picked up a tube of sun protection and strode out with as much dignity as I could muster.

Louisa's smile shown like the sun. "Oh, Martin! That's brilliant!"

I sniffed. "It's all right then? I wasn't sure…" I cleared my throat. "Feels a little odd."

"Oh Martin, I do like it. Turn around, would you?"

I turned feeling the fool.

She clapped her hands. "Oh… blue's your color."

"Ahmmm… think so?"

"Yes, Martin, I do."

"Then… it's ok?"

"It's brilliant!" she sidled over and took my arm. "How about luncheon?"

Feeling slightly embarrassed I was walking down the pathway with Louisa on my arm. Turned out the mesh thing was a shirt-like beach coverup she had draped over herself. I felt the blast of ultraviolet rays start to burn the pale skin of my legs and I sped up to gain protection from the noonday Mediterranean sun. I caught Louisa grinning at our close escape from direct rays as I tugged her along behind me.

My speed was impeded by scooping sharp gravel into my new sandals on the path. I'll give Louisa credit for not laughing out loud as I hopped on one foot to the other swallowing a scream as tiny sharp stones telegraphed instant paint to my cerebral cortex.

Lunch was adequate as we ordered a simple meal from the café part of the restaurant. In this country, dinner was eaten at mid-day. But as we did not want take a siesta, like the locals, we chose to eat at the café by one of the pools. There was a pleasant breeze at the table we chose under the elevated wooden roof. A waiter swiftly greeted us and gave us menus nearly as soon as we sat.

I approved of the fairly healthy meals listed on the English version of the menu. Grilled fish and chicken, fresh fruit, grains and rice, along with salads were the bulk of the lighter luncheon offerings. I felt certain that we would not starve. However, while I ordered ice water, still, Louisa ordered sangria. The waiter returned with the drinks and I waited until the man left.

Louisa lifted the glass and put the straw in her mouth and drank. "Oh gosh, that's good. Care for a sip? No…" her face fell, "I suppose not."

"Wine at lunch?"

"Martin, it's not all wine, there's fruit punch, and fruit, and…"

I stopped her by holding up my hand. "Louisa, it's only that sun exposure on top of drinking alcoholic beverages is not a good idea. Most severe sunburns occur in connection with imbibing alcohol to excess."

Louisa sat back in her seat. "So you're saying that by drinking one drink, I'll be intoxicated?"

"Your body mass is on the slender side, Louisa. Alcohol affects you more and quickly than it would me, not that I drink alcoholic beverages."

"Martin, you don't drink because you can't handle it!" She crossed her arms angrily. "And I do not drink to excess, at least not anymore!"

I opened my mouth to reply, civilly, I thought when Louisa stood up and got right in my face.

"Martin! I am on holiday and if I fancy a sangria I will have one!"

"I don't want you to be injured is all."

"Oh. That's all?"

"Yes."

"And you called me slender?"

"I did."

"Slender?" She stood over me with fire in her eyes, one hand braced on the table, the other pointed at my face.

"Yes."

"That's what I thought you said," she whispered then planted a large wet kiss on my lips and in surprise responded in kind.

Fortunately the waiter brought our orders just then or there may have been a certain British couple arrested for public love making.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8 – Green Eyed Monster

The waiter was all smiles and reluctantly we set to eating our food. I tackled the grilled fish like a starving man as the scone, boiled egg, and a sad excuse for orange juice in the Heathrow departure lounge was long ago and far away.

Louisa excused herself to the washroom as I toyed with the remnants of the food on my plate. I watched jets fly into and out of the Barcelona airport twenty miles to the west, no doubt bringing more tourists from northern climes to bake their skin into submission and empty their wallets on expensive wine and fruit drinks. I moved my chair deeper into the shade and waited longer, checking my watch time and again.

After twenty minutes Louisa almost ran back to the table carrying a parcel. She had quite an odd look on her face.

"Is something wrong?" I asked.

She looked frightened, the way her face was drawn and her lips pursed, and she would not meet my eyes. "No… not really." She tugged her wrap about herself defensively. "I…" she cleared her throat, "went into the little shop over there, and bought you this."

I opened the bag she offered and was staring at two t-shirts. I took them out. One was beige with the words _Barcelona – Relajarse_ painted across the chest in a looping script. I held it up with a quizzical stare.

"It means relax, Martin."

"Oh." My hand fell onto another item deep in the bag. I pulled out a small case and examined it.

"I had to guess at the shirt size, it says, _grande_, and the other, well I took a chance."

I opened the case and it was pair of sunglasses.

She grinned, breaking the icy look her face had before. "You mentioned you'd left yours back at home in the Lexus."

I put them on and they fit; a near duplicate of my others. "Thank you… for the uhm… things."

She hugged herself and looked away pensively.

"Is anything wrong?" I inquired.

Louisa crossed her legs and started to waggle her foot but stayed silent.

"Louisa?"

She glanced at me then away once more inspecting a palm tree it appeared.

"Are you well? Did the lunch disagree with you?"

She gave me another funny look. "No," she said slowly, but her teeth were gritted. "I mean yes, I mean… oh, never mind!"

"Have I done something wrong?"

She scanned the café terrace, then stopped her foot's orbiting and scooted her chair over near me, taking my arm in her cool hands. She shook her head and uttered a small cry.

"Louisa?" Now I was quite concerned.

"It's just…" she tried to say but stopped.

"Just what?"

"In the shop… I was…"

"Yes?"

"Oh Martin, it's nothing," she hissed. But then she wiped at her eyes.

"Louisa, it can't be nothing. Has to be something that I have done wrong. Shall I leave?" I started to stand but she pulled me back to the chair.

She took a deep breath. "I was in the shop…"

"Yes?"

"There were two women in there."

I craned my head towards the shop area near the café door.

"No! Don't look!" she hissed.

"Well what in God's name is going on?" I bristled. "Did these two women in the shop do something?" I started to rise once more.

"Oh, Martin. Sit down," she sniffed. "Just me and my silly… ideas."

"Actually, I think you have _rather_ good ideas."

"You do?"

"I do. It was _your_ suggestion that made me remember that I had made a deposit at this resort. So…"

"I have good ideas?"

"Yes! How many times do I have to say it?"

That made her smile. "Lots Martin; lots of times."

The waiter whisked in and removed the plates and in poor English offered dessert or more drinks. I waved him away.

Louisa waited until he was gone and she took a deep breath. "I was in the shop."

"You said that."

"And I was bending down to look at the shirts on a low shelf and I heard these two women talking. I'm pretty certain they were on the plane."

"Yes. So what?"

"Well…" her voice dropped to a stage whisper, "one of them - a blonde, rather busty - was saying how you had…"

"I had what?"

"Impressed the Hell out of her Martin! And she was saying…"

"Saying what?"

"That she had invited you… to…" her voice slowed. "I'm pretty certain they were our flight attendants."

"Invited me to do what?"

She looked away and now her hands felt icy on my arm. "Well… from the way she was talking…" she cleared her throat, "that she was wishing that she… uhm…"

"She what? Where _is_ this woman?" I craned my head again.

Louisa ducked her head. "That she… could… you know."

"No. What?"

Louisa sighed. "She could… get you…"

"Get me what?"

"Not what, Martin! _Where_. Get you … into… _bed_!" Her lips trembled. "And here I was thinking I'd have you all to myself…"

The open invitation of the bleached blonde, blue eyed, flight attendant who had propositioned me as I tended to her crewmate came into my head. "God!"

"She said that you… uhm… asked her." I saw a tear run down my wife's face.

"Preposterous!" I felt heat fly to my face.

"Is it?"

"Yes! My God Louisa! The woman is a trollop! _She_ asked _me_! Clearly on the make from the get go! Told me where they were staying and just so happened to be _here_. What a trashy thing to do! I told her I was married, to you. She clearly did not like my refusal."

"Oh…" squeaked out poor Louisa.

I tightened my grip on her hands. "I am _married to you, _ Louisa. And I am not chasing after some ditzy bubble-headed flygirl with an inflated chest! Give me _some_ credit Louisa! My God! I am married to _you_, the mother of our son!"

Now she was openly crying.

I threw my arm around her. "Don't fret." I kissed her forehead.

"Sorry, Martin," She wiped her runny nose on my vest. "Nervous bride syndrome?"

I nodded my head. "Perhaps." I continue to be amazed at the rapid flights of uncertainty that Louisa can throw herself into at times. But given her family history and the run around she and I have given each other for the last year and more, it was no wonder. "Don't worry."

She wiped her face and leered a little. "Still it is _sort of_ nice to think that someone is checking you out." She pinched my bum where her hand had somehow wandered.

"Oww! That hurt!"

"Still friends, Martin?" Her confident Louisa look had come back to her face.

"Hope so."

"Look, there they are! Those two! Heading to the pool." She pointed across the terrace and I recognized the woman immediately.

The young blonde woman was wearing, or nearly not wearing, a bikini that left virtually nothing to the imagination. Her ensemble would have barely made two small tea towels in extent.

I stood up. "Stay here," I commanded.

Louisa called after me. "Martin?"

I marched as rapidly as my sandals would permit and trailed them to a sunny spot by the pool and watched from behind a stack of towels as they arrayed themselves in the brutal sun. There are times when being a doctor can be useful and this was one of those times. Granted I doubted very much that Chris Parsons and the PCT would like what I was about to do, but it had to be done.

When the two had assumed the positions of devoted sun worshippers I made my move. I stomped over to them and planted myself in front of the younger one; the one who was a bit too chummy on the plane.

"Hello!" I shouted, "I thought it was you! Miss…" I fumbled for her name, in spite of my body chemistry trying to react to the vast expanse of flawless female tanned and toned skin on the woman's sleek figure. "Nordsen?"

She levered herself up on her elbows in a slow motion that was clearly calculated to make me start panting. But she didn't know me very well. She peered at me from behind dark glasses. "_North_. Sherri North. You're that doctor! Ellingham is it?" The woman puffed out her chest ridiculously and licked her lips; ones that I was certain had been puffed up as well as other parts.

"Yes." I nodded.

"That was brilliant on the plane! I was just talking about you! Fancy meeting you here! Care to sit – have a drink – have a _whatever_?" The North woman patted the lounge by her thigh. "Have a seat?"

I peered down at her. "How's your friend; the one who fainted?"

"Allison?" said the other woman. "She's having a lie-down in our room. She's fine after we got some food into her."

"Good," I said and turned my attention back to the first one. "How's your arm?"

"My arm?"

"Yes, the one with the actinic keratosis. The sunspot. The left wasn't it?"

The North woman held out her arm. "Yeah. I put extra sunblock on it."

"Let me see," I grasped her arm and scanned the forearm. "Yes here it is." It stood out quite well in the bright sunlight. I prodded it with a finger and felt the girl fidget with pleasure.

"Oh! Certain you don't want to look at it more closely, Doctor?" she was almost panting now as I ran my fingers over her arm.

"Sherri!" shouted her friend. "You said he was marri…"

I peered close at her arm turning it to and fro. "Didn't I tell you to _avoid the sun_ and to see your doctor? I don't like the looks of these!" I prodded several more spots, all invisible and imaginary. "And this one and this one…"

"There's more?" The woman blanched in spite of the sunlight.

"I suggest quite strongly that you get out of the sun for the remainder of your holiday. These spots… well… might be _very advanced_…" I scratched the back of my neck. "May be very serious… I think you should stay in a dark room – out of the sun. Treatment is _generally_ effective, but _in a case like this_…" I shrugged and dropped her arm like a dead fish.

The North woman shot up, nearly screaming and wrapping herself in a towel, fleeing the poolside, with her friend chasing after calling her name.

I watched the pair depart as fast as Olympic sprinters might go out of the starting blocks. I walked towards our table with an air of quiet satisfaction and was intercepted by Louisa on the way. She was hiding behind the same rack of towels where I had stood before.

"Martin," she kissed my cheek. "That was brilliant! Thanks."

"I doubt we'll see _those two_ the rest of the week."

"I am amazed that you would tell her…"

"Tell her what?" I asked nonchalantly.

"Nothing…" She took my arm and walked me back to the table where our quizzical waiter held out our meal ticket.

"Just doing my job," I said and smiled at my wife who beamed back.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9 - Poolside

We returned to poolside, appropriating the vacant lounges the errant flight attendants had abandoned. Louisa and I had gone to the bungalow, used the lavatory and brushed our teeth and then, at my urging, liberally coated ourselves with the sun protection crème. After the short lunch exposure I could already feel some affects already, but being from a northern clime, our system s were unaccustomed to the sun's rays at this latitude. Louisa was all for rushing back to the pool but I followed the sunblock instructions, waiting an hour, plus an extra ten minutes, for the ointment to thoroughly be absorbed into our epidermi.

In bungalow number thirteen Louisa was impatient. "Why? Why wait so long?" She had dropped into a padded wicker chair and was furiously bouncing a foot, while she read.

"I wish to ensure that we are completely protected. I had to use verbal abuse on that git of flight attendant into leaving the sun. Do you wish to have little scars all over you from surgery to remove cancerous growths?" I blustered.

"Martin. If I wanted to get NO sun exposure, I'd stay inside. Better yet I'd have stayed home! Honestly! I want to get a little tan so don't give me a lecture on the dangers of skin cancer! I heard enough of that before we left."

I nodded. "All right." I had learned enough when to pick my battles and this was not one I'd win. I looked at my watch. "We can go now. Plus the extra time has ensured that we have little food in our stomachs if we wish to go swimming. Not good to swim on a full stomach."

Louisa sighed and I heard her mutter. "Have I married an old man?"

"What's that?"

"Nothing. Well come on then." Louisa dropped some more items into a string bag, and picked up her E-reader, which I'd bought her last week. "Let's go." She carefully put a large floppy hat on and her sunglasses.

"Got everything?" I scanned the room, seeing the medical journals I had packed. I selected one or two.

"That what you're reading?"

"Yes."

"What will it take to make you leave work behind, Doctor Ellingham?" She struck a pose, exposing a long glistening leg, hand on hip, the other at her shoulder. "Ready for the beach and the pool?"

Beach or pool? In my whole life I had spent almost no time on a beach, although living at the ocean for five years, I avoided the ocean. I made a face. "Pool, perhaps? There's shade there and the beach is…"

"Yeah, sandy. Come on Martin. I doubt I'll make a sun worshipper out of you in an afternoon."

I sighed and settled the new sunglasses on my face. "Thank you for the glasses."

"You're welcome Martin." She took my arm when I walked her to the door. "Don't you look nice?" She pulled a ball cap of some sort from her bag and pushed it onto my head.

In a mirror, I saw it had the word Cornwall stitched on the crown. "A hat?"

She smiled. "Don't want you to be sunburned." I wrinkled my nose but followed her lead and we walked to the nearest pool in the blast furnace heat.

000

Shade was plentiful by the pool from various umbrellas, trees, and shade structures. Clearly whoever designed it had done their homework. There was also a misting spray shower to rapidly cool oneself as well as conventional showers to wash before entering the pool and removing beach sand and sea salt.

Louisa marched ahead and settled onto the two lounges shaded by both a large umbrella and a palm. That was excellent as palm trees give only marginal shade. I put down the pastel towels I'd taken from the rack and covered the plastic straps on the furniture.

We were settling in to read when a young waitress approached and offered us refreshments. The woman was blonde, Caucasian, and spoke English with an eastern European accent. Her name tag read _Alex_ and she looked to be about Morwenna's age. She had started speaking to us in poor Spanish then rapidly switched to passable English after Louisa said hello.

"I think…" started Louisa. "A soft drink? A cola. Plenty of ice."

"For you sir?" the girl asked.

"Ice water. Bottled."

"We have some very nice sangria, or fruit juice, or if you wish one with alcohol?" She smiled down at me with perfect teeth under deep blue eyes and I could not help but notice a touch of puckering along the edge of her mouth and one eye was open far more than the other on that side. I started peering intently at her.

"Sir?"

"Do you feel any tingling or loss of sensation on the right side of your face, compared to the other?" I pointed at the place. "Have you been sick recently? Had the flu or a cold virus? Mononucleosis?"

"Martin!" Louisa hissed. "Sorry. He does this…" she ducked her head.

Alex sniffled. "I have had a cold, yes."

I sat up straighter. "Does your face hurt? You have a problem closing your right eye. You may have…"

Louisa grabbed my arm. "Sorry. He's a doctor, always trying to heal people."

The girl smiled. "That's all right. I'll get your drinks."

The young woman left. "She's barely an adult," I muttered. "Far from home. Who's looking after her?"

"Martin, would you _please_ try to relax? And take off your vest and get into the pool. Maybe that will help you… unwind."

I looked defiantly at her. "Louisa, that girl has something."

"Martin, this is our honeymoon! Do you want to go home? I don't, at least not yet. Go swim some laps. Do you good."

I slipped out of my vest, felling the sun's rays strike with a vengeance, and hopped and skipped in bare feet to poolside. The thing was large, sort of liver shaped with a bit of pancreas attached, and seemed to be adequately cleaned. I saw no floating debris or leaves and through the clear water saw a clean blue bottom. I was bending down to sniff the water when Louisa came by my side.

"Clean enough?" she asked.

"Appears to be."

"Getting in?"

I wrinkled my nose. "Perhaps not… perhaps later…" I started to say when I felt two small female hands, Louisa's I am sure, on the small of back. I was unbalanced, cupping a handful of water to my nose to see if smelled off or was over chlorinated.

"Martin. I love you," she said then pushed me into the pool.

Suddenly I was upside down, underwater, as warm water filled my mouth, eyes, ears, and sinus passages. I made a half drowned underwater scream and surfaced. "Louisa! What's the meaning of that?"

Louisa was laughing; not the sort of chuckling at the telly thing she does, but a side-bursting, bent double, hold your hands to your face sort of laugh.

"Louisa!" I screamed felling my blood pressure rise. This reminded me of school - the boarding school and a dunking I get every time when we did P.E. in the indoor pool.

She dropped her hands from her face. "Sorry Martin." Then she leapt into air, clutched her legs in her arms and crashed into the water in a giant cannonball.

When the white water subsided and the cascade of sluiced from my face, I grabbed her slim figure as she was laughed.

"Oh Martin!" She threw her arms about me in a clinch. "There you were, bending over and I just had to push you in! How else could I get you to relax?"

I grimaced then squeezing her tight submerged us both. She started to struggle but I pushed her completely under and placing my lips on hers kissed her fiercely.

Her eyes widened at my underwater assault, then she cooperated. After a few seconds we surfaced. She clutched my hair in her hands.

"Well, Martin, I didn't expect that!" She kissed me again. "Relaxed?"

I gave her a look that she immediately read.

"No?" she purred. "Maybe we can do something about that later?" She pushed me away and began to swim away. "Race?"

My swimming style is rather like a ferry boat, all bluff browed and thrashing, but I managed to catch up in a few strokes. I prefer the breast stroke rather than the crawl as it keeps more water out of my eyes.

Louisa turned her head. "You _can_ swim."

"Did you doubt it?"

"There are things I don't know about you, Martin. But I have a lot of time to find out." She smiled, swam to the side of the pool and hauled herself out.

Time. Time. I watched her sleek figure, trim in spite of bearing a baby not four months ago, walk to the lounge and start to dry herself. Time. We had wasted so much of it and I vowed not to waste anymore. But heeding her urging I began to make long strokes along the length of the pool, dodging other swimmers, floaters, and even a few children.

Two boys were batting a football sort of thing back and forth. They made me think of children. Not just our own son, but whether we might have any more. Not a subject we had broached given our history. I knew that Louisa liked children, given her choice of profession. Clearly school children liked her, from Peter Cronk the genius near-teen to the smallest Year One.

I continued to swim, thinking very deep thoughts, until someone screamed.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10 - Accident

The voice was female, and I automatically turned to face Louisa. She had been sitting on the lounge reading, but was now looking across the pool, just past my head.

She shaded her eyes and waved to me. "Martin!" she yelled and pointed. "Over there!"

I turned about and saw people clustered by the diving board. "Oh, God," I uttered as I saw someone lying flat on the concrete pool deck. A few strokes put me at pool side and I clambered out. "Make way, make way!" I pushed myself past a few people, peering down at a boy, about nine or ten, who was lying in a puddle face up, his eyes closed and mouth open. "What happened?"

A distraught woman was kneeling by the child sobbing and tugging at his shoulder. "Lo que ha pasado?" I asked, using up most of my Spanish. "What's happened?"

The woman started to babble unintelligibly, so I knelt at her side and began to observe. The boy was breathing but shallowly based on the rise and fall of his chest. "Yo soy un medico." I took his wrist and felt a steady pulse, although with no watch, I could but estimate the pulse rate.

The woman started to cry and clutched at my arm, speaking what sounded like Italian. Her tones were those of extreme concern. "Dottore! Mio figlio ha l'epilessia!"

"Epilepsy?" I asked.

She nodded vehemently. "Si. Si!"

Louisa suddenly was by my side. "What's happened?"

"His mother says he has epilepsy." I peeled back an eyelid and saw a normal pupil staring up at me, reacting to light. The limbs were motionless and not shaking. "I don't suppose…" I moved the arm and a leg and felt little resistance. "No tremors."

The mum continued to babble, called out what I suppose was the child's name. "Ermanno! Ermanno!"

Louisa put a comforting hand on the woman's arm. "He is a _very_ good doctor."

"Shush? How did he fall?" I asked.

"¿Cómo qué se cayó?" asked Louisa in Spanish.

The woman continued to babble on.

Louisa said "Don't know what she's saying Martin. It's too fast for me. Not that I know much Italian. I barely know a teeny bit of Spanish."

A loud male voice intruded. "That you mate? I thought it was you!" It was the large red-faced man from the plane, who launched into a rapid-fire discussion with the woman. "She says doc that the kid was running and slipped in the puddle. That's all." He listened some more. "And he has epilepsy, but hasn't had a spell for months."

I ran my hands along the child's neck and shoulder, not moving his head. There was a large bump on the back of his head from impact with the pavement. I rolled the neck carefully, not feeling any clicking or cracking, so there was no apparent fracture.

The beefy man bent down. "Wot you think? Another medical mystery for you! Remember me? I'm Alf, from the plane. Me and the missus were sitting right there," he pointed and I saw his very pregnant wife splayed across a lounge looking like beached whale, her pregnancy looking even more advanced in a too-small swimsuit. "I seen this 'un," he tapped the prostrate boy, "running around. Saw him slip in this puddle and go down like a shot!"

"No one pushed him? This isn't an assault, is it?"

"He was by himself! His head smashed on the ground with a crack I heard way over there. An accident." He squinted at me. "So you _are_ a doctor."

"Shush!" My fingers felt over his wet hair, as Louisa comforted the mother who was weeping openly. I felt hair, a firm cranium, and wetness - wetness that was not just water. I dropped my head and saw the telltale red of blood. "Oh God," I groaned feeling gorge start to rise. "He's bleeding."

"Bleeding?" said Louisa. "You'll be ok?"

I heard, more than saw, uniformed people arrive and push the onlookers back. "The child has a cut on his head. I need a towel," I announced.

One was plopped into my hands and I smoothly slid it under the back of the head. The boy started to stir as I did this. I spoke. "You have fallen and hit your head! I am a doctor!"

The boy moved his arms and legs and grimaced as I tightened the towel as a makeshift bandage across his forehead. "Don't move. Uhm, Al…"

"Alf," the man grunted from a mouth that smelled of tobacco and garlic. "Alf Matthews."

"Alf, tell the mother that the child should go to hospital and have this cut stitched. He should also be screened for an epileptic attack, as well the possibility of dehydration, as his skin seems to be slightly wrinkled and flaccid. He should also receive an X-ray of his head and neck and be observed for a possible concussion."

The boy opened his eyes and began to cry, which sent his mother into more sobbing as she grabbed at his arm.

My assistant Alf explained to the mother and she nodded as she listened. Then she threw an arm about me and kissed both cheeks. "Dottore! Grazie!"

I tipped my head, as I was uncomfortable with public praise, in fact praise of any kind. That much I understood. "Just doing my job," I told her.

"Louisa, we should stay here," I pointed at the ground, "waiting for the ambulance."

"Yes, Martin. Of course." She smiled. "Ever at the ready." She stood by the Italian mother and held her tenderly.

Alf brought over a chair with the crying woman slumped into gratefully. Alf muttered a few more words and she relaxed a little.

In a few minutes two paramedics arrived with a gurney. They questioned the mother, being at least bi-lingual, barely took my name and then hustled the child away after impatiently listening to my prescription for follow-up examinations.

I watched them leave as a pool worker came to clean up the now diluted blood on the concrete. I watched to ensure that none of the contaminated fluid entered the pool. The man used towels to absorb the puddle and then doused the area with a solution of sodium hypochlorite, which would disinfect the pool deck and any remaining water. I sensed someone come over and stand by me.

"That was good, Doc. Really good," the person said in a voice that I almost recognized at once - a voice from long ago. "Brilliant."

I turned my head and saw Mark Mylow grinning at me, his eyes squinting in the harsh sunlight.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11 – Not a Plumber?

I was taken aback. "Mark?" I noticed he was wearing the uniform of the resort, white shirt with gold epaulets and white cargo shorts, along with white socks and leather shoes. At least that made some sense given the temperatures the resort was subjected to. He also carried a black radio on his belt, and was that a can of Mace as well? I also noted that he had put on a few pounds at his midriff and neck and his fingers looked thick.

"Yep. It's me Doc. Fancy meetin' you here! Was that Louisa I saw as well?" He pronounced Louisa as _Louiser _in his Cornwall accent.

I pointed to Louisa sitting back on her lounge. She had walked with the mother of the Italian boy to the ambulance, and had just returned. I grimaced. "Might as well…"

"Right," said the former constable who dogged my heels.

"Louisa," I said, peering down at Louisa who was back under her floppy hat and sunglasses, reading.

"Yes, Martin?" she asked keeping her face locked on her E-book. "Seems you never get a break, from the doctorin' do you."

"It was great to see the old Doc back in action," answered Mark.

She looked up at the sound of a familiar voice.

"Look what followed me home," I said disdainfully.

"Hello, Louiser. All this way from Port Wenn and here you are! What are the odds?" Mylow said looking down at her.

"Oh my God!" she answered. "Mark?" She jumped up and threw her arms about his shoulders while I stood there like an idiot, watching my sunblock- slathered, swimsuit-wearing, and ponytailed wife of a week hug the former constable of Port Wenn. "Oh my gosh! This is…" she stammered trying to get words out of her smiling mouth, "just…"

"Peculiar," I threw in.

"What are you doing here?" she asked looking him up and down.

"Workin'. Been here almost two years."

"You disappeared! Just like that!" she snapped her fingers.

He nodded his head and squinted at both of us. "Yes. Yes, I did."

Louisa dropped the hug but kept a hand on his arm. "There were all sorts of rumors…"

Mark laughed. "Port Wenn does that! If there aren't any facts people just make something up! What were they sayin' about me?"

Louisa looked at me as I tightened my lips. "Oh, you shouldn't care about that," she said. "But I would have thought that you'd have let someone know what you were up too. Just dropped off the face of the Earth."

Mark licked his lips. "But I didn't – totally disappear."

"Oh?" Louisa screwed up her face. "Well, what did you do?"

"No, I didn't just take off," he said. "Did I Doc?"

A grunt came from me. "Err… no."

Louisa whipped her pretty head to face me, her mouth open. "You?"

Mark grinned and said, "I wrote to the Doc pretty frequently for a while, not that he answered too often." He punched me lightly on the shoulder and smiled. "But that's just your way, ain't it?"

"I can tell that your sojourn has not improved your vocabulary," I told him.

He slapped his knee. "That's the old Doc Martin. Always makin' jokes."

"I don't tell jokes."

"Oh?" butted in Louisa. "But how have you been and how did you get here? You work here?"

He nodded. "Indeed I do. A bit of security, not that anything happens here, manage the pool cleaners, you know."

"For two years?"

"About, after Julie got her sentence commuted."

"Julie?" asked Louisa in confusion. "Julie Mitchell? But I though her name was…"

"Emma. Emma Lewis. But I call her Julie." Mark squinted at her. "She likes that."

Louisa looked very hard at me. "You knew this, all this time?"

I ducked my head. "Didn't know they were living in Spain, Louisa."

Her mouth fell open. "I can see that Martin…"

Mark chuckled. "Oh, he's _good_ at secrets, aren't you Doc?"

I sneered then nodded. "Patients and so forth."

"Oh, right," sighed Louisa. "I expect I'll get more details, _later_." She strongly emphasized the word 'later.'

I ducked my head.

"This has been great to see you! You'll have to talk soon; maybe dinner. We have a little place, it's not much…" Mark babbled on. "You'd love to meet our children.."

"You have children?"

Mark nodded grimly. "The girl, Amelia, is two and a half," he coughed. "Our son is just six months. We named him Roger."

Louisa grinned at him. "Roger? Well, that's nice"

"Julie had an Uncle Roger," Mark answered.

Louisa turned to face me. "So you knew all along about…"

"No," I said. "Not all."

Mark took my elbow, inclined his mouth to my ear, and whispered. "Remember what I said Doc? About that sperm test? _Only takes one_, I said. That's our Roger, our little boy."

I nodded, remembering that conversation. "I see." That was the conversation I told him that his sperm test showed he was sterile. It also developed, or was already developing, that Julie Mitchell as she called herself, was pregnant by someone else.

"Not that you needed to know Doc." He raised his voice so Louisa could hear him. "And Julie's on the straight and narrow, you see. I think she's the woman she really wanted to be back in Port Wenn, that is until the Salvation Army man showed up to find her."

"How's her mum?" asked Louisa. "Wasn't she ill?"

Mark squinted at the two of us. "That was a rum one. Her mum died soon after Julie went home."

"I am sorry, Mark. I was saying to Martin at the time how mysterious it all turned out. Julie, uhm…" Louisa stopped. "I mean, I don't want to stir things up."

"That's all right, Louisa. We all have our nets to pull. You cast them into the sea and can never predict what fish might swim into them. Me and Julie, or Emma, we got married soon after she finished some prison time. That was after Amelia was born. I was in Bournemouth then, and I took care of the little tyke, along with the Public Service help I got. It was hard, with her mum in jail. But we got by. And after…"

Louisa hugged Mark. "You went for it. You totally went for it! And I never could believe the story about becoming you a plumber."

"Me? A plumber?" he laughed. "That's a good one. I can barely turn on a hosepipe, let alone solder or fix a toilet. Right?" He glanced at Louisa's left hand now touching his elbow. "I see that I'm not the only one that's been makin' some personal changes, eh? That's a ring."

Louisa waggled the ring in the sun and it sparkled. "Yes, it is."

Mark smiled. "I always knew there was something between you two."

"Louisa, perhaps Mark has other things to do?" I harrumphed.

"Right you are Doc. Say…" a sly grin grew on his face. "How long you been married?"

Louisa bit on her lip. "Oh, not that long."

I was not comfortable making a full acknowledgment of our personal lives to Mark Mylow in public. "We should let you go."

"Right you are Doc! Better find out where the lifeguard was when this accident happened; that boy falling down and all. I'd hate for the resort to get a lawsuit, considering as I am an employee and all."

Louisa brightened. "Ok then. We'll talk later. _So_ good to see you Mark. Let us know about dinner?"

"I will. I will. Gosh. Fancy all this happening!" Mylow smiled a mile wide and walked away a spring to his step.

"Mark Mylow. Isn't that amazing?" said Louisa.

"Yeah. Smashing."

"And all this time you knew, knew that he and Julie were where exactly?"

"Bournemouth last I heard."

"He does sound quite proud of his family doesn't he? But I didn't hear you telling him about James."

"I didn't hear you tell him either."

She looked at me with a nervous expression. "No. No I didn't. Time for that later."

"Right." I drew her back into the shade and reapplied sunblock to myself. "You should do the same."

"You think that little Italian boy will be fine?"

"Unless his injuries are worse than I thought." I sighed. "Depends as well on the doctors down here."

"Not as good as ours, or you?"

"That's not what I said, Louisa." But it's what I thought.

"Oh good," said Louisa. "Here come our drinks."

I saw the waitress named Alex, the one with the lopsided face, approach. The woman was trying to smile, but her facial issues made it all look quite terrible.

**Author's note:**

**For more details on Mark Mylow and the story of Julie Mitchell, see my Doc Martin fanfic "Mylow's Muddle."**


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12 – Brave?

"Hello!" the woman slurred as she brought our drinks on a tray. "A cola and ice water." She shielded her right eye as she looked down at me.

I could see a tear trickle down her cheek from her right eye. "Do you have a headache?" I signed the order slip she offered on the serving tray.

"Sort of." She grimaced. "The bright light makes it water, some."

"Does your right ear hurt or your jaw in that side? And you have difficulty closing your eye?"

The girl put the tray down on a small table and asked, "You _are_ a doctor?"

"He's a GP – general practitioner – and a surgeon both," answered Louisa. "And a very good one, too."

The server squatted down and pointed below and then behind her right ear. "It hurts back here and under…"

"Ah." It struck me then. "This started after your viral illness? The cold you mentioned."

"Yes, Oh yes. A few days after…" she sniffed. "I went snorkeling on my day off. A bunch of the servers went on a picnic. I thought it was an earache! You know, I did feel some pain when swimming, got two or three meters down…" Then the tears began to fall from both eyes.

Louisa sat up and gave me a sharp look. "Oh dear. Now look what you've done, Martin."

"Not my fault, Louisa! The girl has Bell's palsy."

The child slumped onto Louisa's lounge. "What's that?"

"It caused by an inflammation of the facial nerves. Generally not serious. Paracetamol's, know what those are?" She nodded. "A wet warm cloth held to you cheek and jaw may also relieve the swelling. How long has this been going on?"

"Two weeks, maybe?" she sniffled.

Louisa put her arm about her. "Poor thing. Is there a doctor you can see?"

"Yes. There is a medical service I can go to in the village." Alex brightened.

"They will confirm my diagnosis. Tell them to call me if they have any questions. My name is Ellingham. Doctor Ellingham. We are in bungalow 13." I wrote this on her drink order pad. "The disease is not contagious, nor dangerous. Bell's palsy. Have you had chickenpox? Know what that is."

Alex nodded. "I had it when I was three – thirteen years ago."

I traced the line of the facial nerve from under her ear and across her cheek up to her eye. "The nerve runs like that. You should wear sunglasses if the light bothers you. Have any?"

She shook her head sadly. "No. Most of what I make… No."

Louisa glanced at me and rocked her head. "No sunglasses?"

The head went on shaking.

Louisa mouthed the word '_sorry'_ to me and picked up my new sunglasses, where I had laid them on the lounge. "Why don't you have these? We have extra."

"Yes?" The girl took them gingerly. "These are…"

I sighed. "Take them. Now… go to your boss, or whoever, and make arrangements to see this medical clinic or whatever. Sooner is better than later."

She slipped on the glasses and her smile lit up the pool deck. "This is…"

Louisa touched her hand. "Alex, go see your boss. Get to that clinic."

"Thank… you," the girl stuttered then bent to hug us and kissed our cheeks in turn.

We watched her walk away with a happy stride.

"Poor child. Reminds me of some of the teenagers back home," said Louisa.

"But this is one is not travelling in a pack and uttering scurrilous comments to my face and back."

"Sorry about the glasses." She grimaced. "I'll buy you another pair."

"Right." I looked at my watch. "We should get out of the sun. Been over an hour."

Louisa looked along the pool deck to see Alex retreat into the main resort building. "That girl sort of reminds me of…"

"Who?"

She cleared her throat. "Not sure that I would have been brave enough to travel to another country for work, though."

"You're saying you're not brave, Louisa?"

"Not exactly…"

"Coming from a woman who left her home and spent the first six months of an unplanned pregnancy in the largest city in England… I'd call that brave."

"Oh."

"And returned to Port Wenn without any warning and with no job and no place to stay…"

"Ah."

"In the face of criticism and slander that you knew you would face from snoops and gossips. And another thing."

"What's that Martin?" Now she had turned to face me, and the nervous set of her mouth spoke volumes.

I reached over for her hand and held it tightly. "You had to face me."

Her head fell for a moment then came back up. She pulled off her sunglasses and wiped at her eyes. "Yeah, I did."

"Now…" I breathed deeply. "Tell me that wasn't brave."

"Oh. I don't suppose… I quite saw it that… uhm, way…" She glanced away then back at me. Dropping her hat on the lounge, she stood and tried to pull me to my feet. "Let's swim."

I held out my watch. "I thought we'd go back to the bungalow. Spend some time out of the sun. Don't won't to overdo it on the first day."

Louisa smiled down at me brilliantly. "Just a swim though? A few laps? Don't you think it's hot?"

"If we must." I followed her into the water and we swam side by side for a few minutes. Then Louisa swam to my side and put her arms about my back. "Brave? Me? You're saying I was brave."

I ducked my head in assent.

She followed that with a dunking that made the first one seem barely sufficient. There was a kiss or two somewhere in there as well. We hauled out and dried then walked to the bungalow – quickly.

The ceiling fans were running and it passably cooler in the room. I was turning from pushing the door closed when Louisa practically mugged me by throwing her arms about me and at least one leg, if not both. My first reaction, for a second was surprise, until her lips met mine.

I managed to slide the door's privacy bolt into place behind me before she dragged me towards the overlarge bed.

"Louisa? It's the middle of the afternoon!"

"Shush, Martin."


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13 – Thoughts

"What are you thinking?"

I glanced at Louisa, peering at me over the small dinner table where we were finishing dinner. The hotel restaurant was mostly empty, as in this part of Spain many ate quite late. That would have been far too late for me.

Louisa ate another forkful of paella then daintily pulled a piece of prawn shell from her mouth. "They don't fix prawns like this at home. How did you like your broiled grouper?" She pushed some of the remaining rice about her plate. "Want to try some?" she held out a forkful.

I shook my head in the negative. "The grouper is… well, not like a codfish… but…"

"Acceptable?" She held the fork to my mouth. "Taste this. I think I could make this dish at home."

I ate half the morsel she offered, tasting prawns, rice, onions, garlic, green peppers, and saffron. "Not sure you'd be able to find prawns quite as tasty in Port Wenn. Not sure the grocer would stock saffron either."

"I'd like to try it though," she sighed. "Your fish was just acceptable?" she chuckled. "It smells quite nice to me."

I prodded what was left of the unfortunate creature which had given its life to nourish mine.

Louisa took another roll from the bread basket. "I like these rolls as well." Her ring flashed brilliantly in the halogen lights of the place, which was high ceilinged with exposed beams, stucco walls, and terrazzo flooring. One wall was all glazing and it looked to the ocean, where the sun was sliding to be drowned by the Med.

The sunlight had just taken eight and a third minutes to travel from the sun's surface penetrate the atmosphere then be refracted and reflected from the diamonds in her wedding ring and flash to my eyes, and thence my brain. That light had been born inside the sun some 40,000 years ago or so I had read, from the fusion of two hydrogen atoms, and then had struggled surface-ward for all that time, just so I could see that tiny flash.

More photons made the journey and lit the ring once more. I shifted my gaze to her face, where she was now chewing a roll, totally oblivious to the miracle of physics and science that I watched. What was she thinking?

She looked at me and smiled, then took a sip of her wine, a dry white that smelled satisfactory to me, not that I would drink it. "Your fish?"

"Fine."

"Fine? Just fine?" She uncrossed her legs under the table (I felt the motion), scooted her chair inches closer, as her right hand wandered into my lap. "Only fine?"

"It's…" I squirmed as she patted my knee, "tasty."

"From the looks of things, it's more just tasty. Just scraps left." She clutched my leg. "You were hungry."

I nodded seeing the light from her ring flash across the table.

She saw the slant of my gaze and looked down. Turning her hand she made the tiny flashes roam over the white tablecloth. As she rolled her hand this way and that, some flashes sprang across the bare part of her upper chest, where her v-necked dress exposed her skin. I could not help but notice the tan line already developing, a faint redness from the brief sun exposure today. The flashes lit her slim neck, where she wore the garnet teardrop on a slender gold chain, the one she said her father's mother gave her when she was little. The stone made a contrast with the turquoise shimmery dress, some sort of cotton with a dusting of some threads that made it seem metallic.

As my thoughts revolved with what I knew of semi-precious stones, their chemistry and hardness, my stare traveled down the neckline to where a tiny bit of cleavage was visible. Louisa Glasson, we have come a very long way from the woman I met on that airplane five years ago.

"Martin? Won't you talk to me?"

"Yes, I was hungry," I said.

She patted my knee then the hand withdrew and a long lower leg was firmly placed against my shins. "Thought so." She sipped her wine then leaned back and yawned. "Don't know why I'm so tired." She rolled her eyes at me. "Must be the…"

"Travel," I interrupted before she could say what I thought she might say. "Air travel."

"There is that," she whispered, "and other things."

I pursed my lips and ducked my head, self-conscious at what she indicated. The afternoon was satisfactory, I reflected_. _

"_Martin! You bloody fool!"_ said a tiny voice in my head. _"Louisa is your wife! If you can't make love to her…"_

I cleared my throat. "Yes. Things."

"I was thinking," she said.

"Yes?"

"Have we ever walked on a beach, together?"

"No."

She grinned and leaned toward me revealing a bit more anatomy which proved she was the female of the human species. "Have you ever?"

"What?"

"Walked on a beach? I'm not sure. Well growing up in London…"

"I have," I said, "with Aunt Joan… and her friend."

"Oh? You were little then."

I nodded. "I was seven."

"Did you enjoy it?"

I recalled being shocked by the cold water, being frightened by a crab and stubbing my toe on a rock, not to mention feeling the gritty cold sand like tiny knives grinding into my bare feet. I ducked my head. "Not really. The water was cold."

Our waiter emerged from wherever it is that waiters go to and from and asked if we wished dessert or coffee. The man started to go into the raptures of available brews, flans, tarts, flaming dishes and fruit.

Louisa caught my eye.

"Perhaps later," I said.

"Si. The restaurant is open late, quite late. Midnight, if you want something," the man answered.

I took out him the plastic card so he could credit the room account for the meal.

"You don't want espresso?" Louisa asked, startled. "I'd have thought you'd want coffee."

"No." I needed sleep, and the hyper-caffeinated stuff would keep me awake well past my usual bed time of ten o'clock.

"The coffee bar is open late as well, senor. Perhaps then?" the waiter peered down at me, turning his head to Louisa, appreciating I am sure her beauty.

I didn't like him inspecting her so closely though as I could tell that every male in the room had continued to inspect her from the moment we came in. I was only some man in a blue suit and yellow tie.

The dress called attention to her long legs, bare arms, and slender waist. She wore her chestnut hair down, spilling over bare shoulders, as the dress had only two narrow strips that held it up. If the room lights were out, I felt she would glow.

I had been slightly shocked, yet fascinated at the lace brassiere and sheer underwear she had paraded about in after a shower, and as she dried her hair and put on makeup, though she had slipped into a sheer wrap at the end. I had watched her get dressed with what I thought was careful stealth while attempting to read a medical journal. I was still slightly embarrassed at the ardor our love making had taken that afternoon but still felt my gaze riveted more and more by her.

She caught me looking at her once and laughed.

"What's so funny?" I harrumphed.

Her eyes danced. "It's ok, you know."

"What?"

She went back to applying makeup and I saw her smile in the mirror. "We _are_ married."

My eyes went back to the article on diagnosis of deep vein thrombosis by Doppler venogram measurements, yet found myself turning once more to where she sat at the dressing table.

She came to my side in a few minutes. "Zip up a girl?" She had put on the dress so turned her back to me. "One of the nice things about being married is having someone to zip you up."

I had struggled with the tiny zipper and clasp at the top. "You must have managed by yourself before."

"Yes, but it was a struggle." She smoothed the dress into place, slipped into wedge shoes (which I disapproved of due to the poor posture and eventual foot damage those would cause) and picked up a tiny handbag. "I'm ready."

I stood and she ran a hand down my arm, then made to adjust my tie, although I knew it didn't need adjusting. I prided myself on my ties which I always tied in a Windsor knot, which is perfectly symmetrical, if done properly.

"Thank you Martin."

"It's only a zipper."

She smiled almost sadly. "I wasn't thinking about the zipper."

Dinner had followed and it was nutritionally adequate, or more so. We left the restaurant and she tugged me towards the bungalow.

"Come on Martin. Let's go for a walk on the beach. Get our sandals and the camera."

I eyed my watch. 'Louisa it is getting late, we don't know the area…"

A slim hand stopped my mouth. "We are taking a walk, and you will enjoy it! Come on. Don't be a gloomy bloke."

At the bungalow she made me take off my suit coat and tie, and opened my shirt one button at the neck. She stood at the door swinging her flip-flops while I got out the camera, and checked the charge on it.

"Coming?" she asked with an arched eyebrow.

"Just checking."

She sighed. "Every careful, aren't you?"

"Try to be."

She chuckled but kept silent until we made our way to the sand. The vista opened up, showing the blue ocean, light tan sand, and the orange sun slipping to the horizon.

She put her arms about my waist as we strolled. She had her feet in the surf, holding up her long skirt, while I trod along the firmer and more stable edge of the sand where the waves did not reach and I could keep my trousers dry.

Louisa sighed and I knew that her brain was bubbling with the aftermath of afternoon love making, a warm shower, a full meal, and two glasses of white wine.

"Isn't this nice?" she said putting her head on my shoulder.

I nodded.

"So what do you think of the beach?"

"At least the water is warm."

"Feels nice," she said. "Take some pictures Martin?"

I peeled her arms away and took a few pictures, adjusting the exposure for the brightness of the lowering sun. These modern electronic cameras had automatic settings, but I have found that they are usually underexposed or overexposed.

I snapped the nearly empty beach, palm trees along the shore, and the distant sun.

"Take one of me?" she asked.

I posed her with various backgrounds. She smiled at me, both with the setting sun at her back and as she faced it.

"Something's wrong, Martin," she said after I had taken six photographs.

"What's that?"

"We need someone to take our picture." She shielded her eyes in the light, ripped the camera from my hands and ran over to an old man who was puttering about at the water's edge. The man smiled a gap-toothed grin as my charming wife held out the camera to him and spoke in her schoolgirl Spanish.

"Si!" the man said, who immediately took over, posing her next to me, grabbing my hands in his ancient one, putting one about her waist, the other on her shoulder. "Momento!"

He brushed at a stray strand of her hair, adjusted a fold of her dress at her waist and twisted my head this way and that, all the while squinting at us and whistling through his few teeth.

"Estar!" the little man commanded.

"That means stay," Louisa said.

The man squinted through the view finder and fired off several shots. "Fantástico!" he announced checking the LCD screen on the camera after each picture he took.

"Muy bonita!" he said as he handed back the camera, then kissed Lousia on the cheek and puttered off calling out "Buenos noches!" behind him.

Lousia flicked through the pictures. "Oh these are good! So nice of him. Gracias!" she yelled at his retreating back.

I looked down at the tiny screen which showed us in an ardent clinch, her face lit up and smiling and there was even a slight hint of a grin on my lips.

"These are wonderful!" she exclaimed, then threw arms about me and kissed me full on the lips.

In her embrace, I wondered if it was it all possible that somehow, in spite of my natural nature, I was actually making her happy?


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14 – Honeymoon

It was getting late and sleep kept pulling my eyelids closed, so I dropped the medical journal onto the night table. "Louisa?" I asked her, "Are you ready for sleep? Shall I turn out the light?" It was just after we had returned from the beach, and the sunset had finished as we returned.

She sat upright, reading her E-book. "In a minute." She yawned. "Just let me read for a few minutes."

She was wearing a yellow nightgown, and it must be new as I'd not seen it and Louisa usually wore pyjamas. The garment was long and satiny, and her dark hair made it glorious on her.

"Right." It was nearly ten o'clock my usual bedtime. Louisa tended to stay up later, usually marking papers and such for school. And tending to James sometimes went late, but he was sleeping well, lately thank heavens. The little child did have his ways and when he put his mind to it his parents were bent to his will – whether from a wet nappy, a windy tummy, or any number of untold fears and discomforts of a young baby.

Louisa smiled at me. "It's been a full day; travel and all. Wasn't that sunset brilliant?"

"Yes." I rolled towards her and put my arm about her waist, as I yawned. "Good night."

"Don't I get a kiss?"

I did my duty.

"Good night, Martin," she said as I drifted towards sleep.

Sometime later I woke to hear her voice. It did not sound at all at ease. I rolled to my side and found Louisa's side of the bed empty. "Louisa?" I sat up in alarm.

"Over here Martin." She was seated on the sofa in the mini-lounge, her legs stretched out along the length of the two-seater. The room lights were off, but for a single night light shining in the loo.

"Are you all right?" I asked and hearing no answer, I repeated the question.

Her voice came to me with a break in her tone. "Hope so."

I rolled from the bed and walked to her, the floor tile chilling my bare feet. I stood over her, her long yellow nightgown faintly visible in the dim light. Her face was a ghostly halo. "Are you well? Sunburned, that it?"

Her head fell. "No…" she grabbed at my hand. "Martin… I…" I heard her sniffle.

The words _oh God_, flashed into my head but I held them in. I dropped to one knee. "Something is wrong." I put my other hand on her neck.

She seized me like a drowning person blubbering onto my pyjama vest. It took some moments for her to calm down and to get an intelligible answer from her.

After she blew her nose, wiped her eyes, and a few hiccups had issued forth I asked her bluntly. "What _is_ the matter?"

"I… I bought this nightgown, for our honeymoon…"

"Yes," I answered.

"No. Not _this_ honeymoon. The _other_ one." Her face went back to my chest where more mucus and tears were deposited upon it. "The other…"

I sighed. Last November we did not get married. We each had jilted the other. Then she left for London, more like snuck off, and then she returned to Port Wenn in the spring bearing a six-month fetus in her uterus; _our_ baby. Then James was born in due turn, and after a rocky summer of attempting to accommodate one another and repetitive delays for my departure to a new job, here we were.

"We're married now," I said, knowing it was the wrong thing to say. More tears came out, and all I could do was to hold her as her body shook.

She mumbled into my chest.

"What?" I asked. "I can't hear you when you are not speaking clearly."

She sighed. "Martin! I know!" She almost hit me as she thumped my back. "I know that… but…"

"But?"

"We've done it all backwards! We got pregnant, before a wedding that got cancelled, then I left, and then came back, and then you were going to leave…" she gasped, "but you stayed…"

Her recitation was not that different from what Mrs. Tishell said a month ago.

Louisa finished her emotional outburst with, "And this nightgown… was supposed to be special… and you're asleep, that is you _were_ asleep."

Had the wine affected Louisa in some strange way? Was it the sun or the afternoon love making? I was puzzled how to respond. "I was asleep, yes."

Her luminous eyes fixed on me as she plucked at the garment. "I bought this… for our… wedding night."

We were married last weekend, after we agreed that it was best to formalize our relationship. "But that, ahem, was, just when exactly?"

She shook her head violently. "I don't know and I can't figure it out. It makes me feel…"

Silence fell for a few seconds, and it finally crept into my thick cranium what she was saying, at least a slight amount. "You're confused."

"Yeah. Was it last year, when you proposed? And as near as I can figure that was when I got pregnant, or was it last week, or was it… oh damn, Martin, we've bollixed up the whole thing."

I closed my eyes and tried to remember a half overheard conversation from my training years. One of the consultants had gotten married and was describing in detail the hotel where they had stayed after his wedding and reception, how the room looked and so on. There were flowers on the bed, champagne on ice and so forth. He even described the aftershave he had carefully selected, the silk briefs (a total waste I thought then and now) he had bought at a gentleman's store, and the half-lit and romantic tableaux he recounted as he took his new bride to bed properly, for the very first time.

I dropped Louisa's hands and saw it was barely ten-thirty PM. I was not certain quite what to do but I spoke anyway. "Go to the lavatory, wash your face, put on fresh perfume and return to bed. I…"

"You'll do what?"

I bent my head and kissed her cheek. "Go to the lav."

"And?" Her eyes were large.

I sprang up, pulled on a rumpled pair of suit pants plus shoes and a slightly smelly shirt, went to the door and stomped out into the night.

000

The desk clerk was nearly sleeping, in spite of the raucous sounds from the bar and nightclub. Clearly festive nights started late and went late and I was grateful our bungalow was a little secluded form the action.

"Senor?" the man asked rubbing his eyes.

"I need…"

"Si? Yes, sir?" the man switched to English. He ran his eyes up and down my disheveled clothing.

"My wife and I are staying in bungalow 13."

"Si. Doctor Ellinghaaam," he drew out the last syllable. "Senor Manager Catalao told me to render all aid to you. How may I?"

I scanned the reception area. Some sort of flower arrangement was on the counter, a vase holding red carnations and fern leaves. "I'll take this," I scooped up the vase, and saw another by the elevator, which I appropriated. "And I'll have these."

"Senor?" The man bristled. "These are for the reception! You cannot take…"

"Shush!" I pushed all the flowers into one vase scattering water droplets and castoff leaves on the floor and counter. "Now! I need…" I drummed my fingers. "Candy."

"Candy, senor?"

"Yes, you fool! Sweets, chocolates!"

"We have some in the shop next door, but they are almost closing for the night! If you wish I can have some for you in the morning…"

I left the man gawping as I scuttled into the shop by the restaurant where a clerk was locking down security gates. I ducked under them wild eyed. "Chocolates?"

The woman recoiled seeing an apparent mad-man in her shop. "Chocolates?"

"Yes! That is what I need!"

The desk clerk came after me and spoke to the woman. I caught the words _loco_ and _doctor_ in rapid fire Spanish. The man twirled a finger by his heard but stopped when I glared at him.

"Doctor Ellinghaaam – aqui? Here?" The man held out a slim white and gold box. "From Belgium? These are muy…" he paused, "how you say?" he smacked his lips.

"I'll take them." I paused. Now what had that dolt said all those years back? One more thing. What was it? Ah, yes! "Champagne."

"Champagne? That would be in the bar, senor! Not here!" the clerk yelled astonished.

"Come with me!" I tucked the box under my arm and ran into the din of the bar, where it looked to me like a German football team was camped out, all trying to kiss the waitresses or least grope them, while swilling Spanish wine and liqueurs. I tried to get the barmaid's attention, but was finally aided by the clerk, who pulled her over and spoke in her ear. This time the madman gesture was not used by him.

"It's my honeymoon!" I yelled to the woman, who smiled with a row of perfect teeth.

More Spanish conversation ensued as she prepared a tray, complete with a linen covering, an ice bucket, a bottle of bubbly, and two long-stemmed fluted glasses. "Felicitaciones!" she shouted into my ear.

I balanced the tray, held the chocolate box under my arm precariously and intercepted the vase from the reception counter as the desk clerk watched in amazement. I started to the door and was aided through by the clerk whose eyes were now knowing and kind.

"Senor!" the man almost saluted.

"Yes?"

The man held the door open and winked. "Have a pleasant night. Congratulations!"

The door swung shut to a cheering yell from the vicinity of the bar.

000

The bungalow was almost completely dark and silent as I pushed the door open, while juggling the items I held.

"Martin?"

I fumbled with a key, the tray, the box of candy, and the flowers. I saw Louisa was now back in bed, her hair combed, makeup fixed and her E-book in her hand. One lamp was on a low setting.

I tried to catch my breath. "I am…" I walked slowly to the bed. "Louisa, I am…" I tried to shrug. "A bit…"

"Oh, Martin? For me?"

I bit my tongue as I put the flower vase on the dresser. The tray went next to it. Then I walked to the bed and held out the pasteboard box. "Candy?"

She took the box and looked in. "These are…"

"Belgian."

She put a piece into her mouth. "Gosh. Orange and chocolate! How did you know these are my favorite?"

"The flowers…"

"Oh… red carnations! Wherever did you find those?"

I slowly walked to the lav and closed the door. I washed my face, ran the razor quickly over my cheeks, and combed my hair. The rumpled suit bits went onto the counter, and I smoothed the now rumpled pyjama bottoms I wore. The vest was wet with Louisa's tears and nasal discharges so I stripped it off.

I entered the bedroom as Louisa watched me silently and I took the champagne tray to bedside. And put it on the foot of the bed. "Louisa… I…"

Her hand touched mine. "Oh, Martin. This is so…"

I uncorked the bottle to great fizzing, poured out two glasses, holding one out to her. "If you would, ahem, care for champagne?"

Louisa wiped at her eyes. "Yes, Martin. Thank you. But you… don't drink… do you?"

I ducked my head. "I'll have a sip."

We clinked glasses and drank. I am no great connoisseur of wine or champagne but this was quite good – or at least not bad.

Louisa's eyes shone in the dimness. "Martin, thank you. I… I so wanted… things to be special."

I drank another sip. "Rather good, don't you think?"

She smiled. "Yes, rather good." Louisa put down her glass and scrunched across the covers to where I stood by the foot of the bed. "Care to come to bed now, husband?" She patted the sheets.

"I'll just move the tray…"

"Good idea, Martin." Louisa smiled once more. "That is an excellent idea," she said as she switched off the light.

I joined her under the covers and she hugged me eagerly burying her mouth on my neck.

In spite of being awkward, a stupid oaf and a difficult man, I had managed to do one thing right for once.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15 – Morning

Light was seeping through the blinds and I knew the sun was full up as a ray with laser beam precision struck me in the eye, thusly ending any hopes I might have had for a longer lie-in. I turned my head as Louisa mumbled and pulled me closer to her, which was enjoyable, given the fact that we intertwined like strands of seaweed. Although as wonderful as her long hair felt on my bare chest and shoulder, one of her legs, was draped over mine, and from the pins and needles I was experiencing in my right foot, there was nerve compression underway. As I wiggled my foot, she startled.

"Martin? Wha…"

"Nothing."

She rolled partway onto her back. "What's the time?"

I went up on my elbow to squint across her shoulder. "About seven."

"Too early."

I let my head plop back on the pillow and closed my eyes.

Louisa hugged me. "Martin, I…"

"Yes?"

She kissed my cheek. "Going to the loo." She slithered away, draping a dressing gown over herself, but not before her bare hip and bum flashed before my eyes.

Water ran across the room, the door opened, and she came back. I saw her pick up the yellow nightgown and fold it, then shuck her dressing gown and slide back under the sheet. Her cold bare feet made me yelp as they were pressed against me but the rest of her was deliciously warm.

"Sorry, Martin. The floor is cold."

I nodded. "Ceramic tile."

"A lot like the slate in the surgery."

"Yes. Easy to clean though."

"But," she rubbed her face on my shoulder and as held me in her arms, "when James starts to crawl, it will be cold on his little feet and legs."

I sighed and closed my eyes, as I was still tired, and didn't actually wish to discuss flooring. "Might we… ahem… talk about this later?"

"I was just wondering. We still have two houses; mine and your surgery."

I groaned as we had danced around this subject several times. "Perhaps we might…"

"I was thinking, well, we might sell mine, you could keep the surgery of course, and find a proper house? I do love White Rose Cottage, after all… but…"

"What then?"

"Oh," she ran a hand down my chest, "we… uhm… you know."

"No, I… Oh, yes." She was mentioning our first night together on our engagement. "Does that matter?"

"No, it doesn't. But when I go past it and see the renter's things in there, it gives me pause. That's still my house."

"And the surgery is mine, Louisa." I closed my eyes. "We'll sort it."

"Alright. But still… doesn't make sense does it? I'd want to live in the village of course; couldn't bear to drive to work. Must be a place we could latch on to, don't you think?"

"Possibly." My right foot was now starting to regain nearly full sensation. I wiggled it to hasten the process.

She pulled away a bit, which I did not like. "Am I crowding you?"

"No." I kissed her. "About the house. Later?"

"Right." She rested her head on my shoulder. "Martin?"

"Yes," I sighed.

"The champagne, the candy, and the flowers, that was so brilliant. I had no idea; I mean it wasn't… uhm." I sensed she bit her lip. "I hope you don't think I was being… how to say it? Needy? But it was very sweet. However did you manage it?"

"I… erh… well, I didn't…" I stammered.

"It was very sweet; so… romantic."

I was trying to think how to tell her it was totally unscripted.

Soft lips met mine. "Martin, I love you."

As the kiss deepened I felt I had to come clean. I broke the kiss, but her arms stayed tight about me. "Louisa I need to tell you…"

"I know," she sighed. "When you rushed out of the room, I thought I'd made you angry."

"Louisa…"

She kissed me and caressed me and did not stop. From that moment with her in my arms, I knew that I could not replace her delusion of romance with the cold hard fact that my nighttime excursion was one borne of panicky desperation. Louisa continued to snog my face and despite feeling tired and a bit weary after having a shortened share of sleep, I responded enthusiastically to my wife's attentions for we _were_ on our honeymoon.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16 – The Busman

That afternoon we were on the beach, in spite of my protestations that there were greater perils to our health there, such as enhanced UV radiation, pounding surf, and hazards from various marine organisms. But Louisa persisted in her longing to spend the afternoon on the sand.

Fortunately, there were lounges and umbrellas available, for lease of course, and I dutifully engaged them.

The young woman who scanned the room card and set up the large and opaque umbrella, gave me a considering look. "You're that doctor, aren't you?" she asked in a thick Scottish accent.

Weren't there any Spaniards working here? I wondered. "Yes. Doctor Ellingham."

"I'm a mate of Alex, the pool waitress. She got to the clinic yesterday PM about her face, you know? They pretty much confirmed what you told her."

I nodded.

"How is she?" asked Louisa, who stood by me, sporting the second of her new swimsuits. This item was yellow with splashes of orange across the one piece body. If I squinted my eyes I could tell that it was an avant guarde impression of palm fronds across a yellow beach. I was also pleased to see that if a beauty pageant was held on this beach, Louisa would certainly be able to hold her own, although she was a mum and an older one at that.

"Oh, Alex is doing fine, pretty much. They told her to stay out of the sun for a couple days; give her eye a rest from the light." The Scottish girl went on. "She's been telling the staff what a dab hand you are at doctorin'."

Years of medical school and medical training, surgical rotations, plus internships in vascular work, and later a year to retrain as a GP, had made me only a dab hand? I pursed my lips but only nodded. I wondered what my dad would have thought of that assessment. Didn't I go into vascular just so I could be better than him at something?

Louisa took my arm. "He spotted a bit of glaucoma in me, the first time we met, didn't you?" She grinned up at me. "Lucky for me we were on the same plane, wasn't it?"

The beach clerk laughed. "You are a doctor and you run about diagnosin' just for a bit of fun while on holiday?" She turned to go. "You folks need anythin' just ask. I'm Fiona - Fiona Bruce." The girl walked back to her little stand under a palm tree and the celebrity tabloid with the lurid cover she'd been reading before we put her to work.

Louisa sat down on the lounge and arranged her things. "She seems nice."

"Yeah."

"You don't think so? About the girl"

"That's not what I said." I carefully draped the lounge with a towel, sat down, removed my sandals and opened my medical journal.

"You're not going in the water?"

"Thought I'd read." I told her grumpily.

"What are you annoyed about?"

"I dislike having my professional credentials rated by teenagers. Reminds me…"

"Of just what exactly?"

I swallowed bile as my repressed anger at all the taunts by the pack of teen girls in Port Wenn came to mind. "The girl pack."

"Oh, Martin! She wasn't treating you unfairly, did she? The girl wanted to say something nice. I thought it was nice."

"You did?"

Louisa touched my elbow. "Martin, why do you have such a thin skin at times? Gosh with everything you've been through."

I lowered my journal and stared at her. "What do you mean by that?" I asked testily.

"Nothing. Just that back in Port Wenn there has always been plenty of criticism, I know. You've weathered that. Why let one offhand comment bother you?"

I sneered a little. "Makes me uncomfortable."

"Martin, you've had worse and you're still standing. Right?"

I went back to my journal without answering.

It must have been the heat, the sun, or the huge brunch we ate courtesy of room service, but I found myself drifting off to sleep. Or perhaps because of the sporadic sleep cycles that I had undergone since we left Port Wenn for London I was fatigued. We had an early departure the other morning, then one night in London in that cramped hotel where the bed was too short, then my less than full night's sleep last night… I rested my head against the back of the lounge, closed my eyes against the too bright light and felt the journal slide from my sweaty fingers.

000

Some time passed and I must have been dreaming. The sun was bright, the water blue, green in the shallow parts. The air smelled like sunscreen, seaweed, and that brackish odor of dead things from the sea – stranded fish and dead crabs, and… something else.

Dimly a voice was calling and it started to filter into her ears and fuzzy brain.

The voice kept calling. "Ermano! Ermano!"

The name must mean something, but what? It sounded foreign, and not familiar, exactly.

"Ermano dove sei? Ermano?"

It was a woman calling; calling again and again.

The name must mean something, I thought. Where had I heard it before?

"Ermano! Oh mio Dio!" Now the voice was strident, insistent, and panicked. "Aiutatemi! Aiuto!"

Overlaid with the woman yelling in some obscure language, there was a general hubbub of more voices; other voices. I rolled my head from side to side to make them go away. But the voices kept coming and coming, getting louder – more and more split the air – shouts, yells, screams.

There was one voice that started to make me pay attention. I'd heard exactly that tone of voice used; the same timbre and pitch, the same intonation. I'd heard it in the back of a speeding ambulance on a Cornwall country road in the middle of the night as a little boy was bleeding to death under my fingers. A voice that I recognized above all others.

"Martin! MARTIN! WAKE UP!"

My heart skipped a beat. It was Louisa! I sat bolt upright and jumped to my feet, my heart thumping along at a rapid fire pace.


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17 – On Holiday

"MARTIN! Over here!" I heard her yell, and saw her in the middle of a crowd of people gathered at the water's edge.

I sprinted over to her and pushed my way through the crush. "Make way! I'm a doctor!" I yelled, adding a few elbow jabs for effect to get to her through the crush. She'd dropped from view after she saw me run towards her and I feared that she was hurt or ill.

"Louisa?" I yelled out. Luckily it was someone else.

A boy lay on the sand; on his back, motionless, eyes closed, arms and legs limp. Louisa has trying to start CPR. "What's happened?" The kid looked to be about ten or so, skinny and lean.

"This boy," she gasped, giving another breath into his lungs, or trying to. "Found him underwater." She blew another breath into him, her mouth over his, his nose pinched off by her right thumb and forefinger. I observed that she had his neck cocked backwards to clear the airway. She was soaking wet, her hair hanging down around her face as she struggled to give the breath of life.

I observed the nail beds, which were grayish blue, a sure sign of hypoxia. I jammed a finger into his neck to feel for a pulse at his carotid artery. Was that a flutter or was that from Louisa's efforts? "Stop!"

"What?" She rocked back.

I took the pulse again and felt a slow beat. "He's not dead." My ear automatically went to his mouth and found no breath sounds, nor when I put an ear on his chest. "Not breathing though."

Someone in the crowd was sobbing, screaming, crying out a name. "Ermano! Mio Dio!"

I looked at the person; a woman, dark haired, with olive skin, in a swim suit, kneeling and half collapsing on the sand. Somebody was supporting her, holding her shoulders as she keened with grief. It was the woman from the pool, from just yesterday. I realized with a shock this was the boy from the pool; the one who had fallen to the pavement and knocked himself unconscious! The child had epilepsy as well!

"Louisa, let me…" I pulled her away, rolled the boy onto his stomach. Now the white bandage of tape with a shaved area around it was visible on the crown of his head. I positioned his arms over his head, bent at the elbow, and turned his head to one side after confirming his tongue was protruding and there was no debris in his mouth. A quick finger sweep brought out grains of sand and little else. I straddled him, put my large hands on the small of his back just below the ribs and starting pushing upward rhythmically, one thrust every two seconds, in an impulsive stroke.

I heard Louisa begin to weep and that heightened the urgency. This was someone's child, a son, who should be playing football, learning the clarinet or violin, or collecting butterflies. Not lying motionless on the sand as I pummeled his back with jarring thrusts. This boy might be our own son James some day due to accident or incident, and the sobbing woman would be Louisa, his mother.

I glanced at Louisa and her stricken face wet with seawater shocked me with the almost telepathic shared sense of terror.

I'd been in this place before. I was thirteen years old and a class mate (I could not call him a friend) had fallen from a canoe into the school pond. His name was Gerald and I did not like him. He was one of my major tormentors at school – pouring water onto my mattress, defacing my books, kicking me in the shins for no reason on the cricket pitch, calling me names, flicking me with a wet towel in the showers, all the usual tricks that bullies play on the weak and defenseless.

The rowboat incident had been caused by Gerald and his toady mate, who had decided it would be _fun_ to ram my canoe with theirs. I was alone in mine, peacefully reading as it was one of the few places I could retreat and have peace without being tormented. The book was from the school library – Jenkin's work on _Physiology and Anatomy of the Human Body with an Emphasis on Circulation and Respiration,___published in 1833. I'd found it buried in a box of cast off books and it was one of my treasured keepsakes.

Gerald and his mate, a boy named Tom, had forgotten that there was a disused fountain jet, barely at the water's surface, and in playing torpedo, had run up on that and tipped.

Gerald's mate had scrambled free of the sinking canoe and plodded to shore. Gerald had the ill luck, or fortune depending upon your viewpoint, to step into a large hole on the bottom. I watched as he floundered and then sank from sight. I half-expected this as another trick, but as I peered into the murky depths of the pond, I could not see him. I'd then stripped off my jumper and shoes and went in after him while his friend Tom ran from the scene as fast as possible.

I found him on my second dive, pulled his cold and lifeless body from the water and began resuscitation; just like this time. The books I had read and a life saving talk when I took my swimming examination had stuck with me. The skills, basic though they were, gave me tools to succeed, and when teachers arrived along with the school nurse Gerald was lying on the ground shivering and coughing but alive. It was the first life I had saved and not the last.

Memory fled and I was back on the hot sand trying to revive _this_ boy.

"Martin?" Louisa screamed. "There's help coming!"

My focus remained on my patient, his body rocking up and down with my efforts, as I heard the whine of an electric motor and the squelch of tires on the sand.

"Let me through!" someone yelled who dropped to his knees by my side.

"Child, found in the water, submerged. Not breathing," I explained.

The man asked, "What about CPR?"

I turned and saw Mark Mylow. "Don't you have lifeguards on this beach for God's sake?"

"He was on lunch break," he said lamely.

The boy coughed and inhaled and the crowd sighed with relief.

I got off of the child and brushed sand from my hands. I rolled the boy onto his side. His pupils were reactive though he remained stunned, then he coughed once more and began to wail. To the din of relieved shouting came the child's Italian mother who fell on the child half crying and half shouting for joy.

"Seems we been keepin' you busy Doc," said Mylow.

"You really need to get a better grip on things around here, Mark!" I tore into him. "This child might have died while your so called _lifeguard_ was eating lunch or chatting up the local bathing beauties!"

Mark shook his head sadly. "You're right, Doc. You are right at that."

I stood and looked down at the mother. "You need to keep an eye on your son!"

"Did he drown?" asked Louisa.

"Started to. Likely laryngospasm locked his vocal cords tight when he went under. Not much sand in his mouth and no water was coughed up by the boy. No water in his lungs."

"Why'd you stop me from doing CPR?" she asked. "That's what they told us…"

I held up my hand. "In most cases it might have worked. But I observed that his chest did not rise or fall as you gave rescue breaths. Therefore, his airway was closed. He did not quite drown."

In the distance I heard an ambulance siren arriving on premises for another rescue. I whirled on Mylow. "If you need me…"

"Yeah. No." he spoke abashedly. "I'll get things sorted on the lifesavers, straight away! Sorry, Doc!"

"You do that," I told him angrily. "You _do_ that!"

I watched as the ambulance crew arrived, tucked the boy onto a stretcher and carried him off once more – two days in a row – and I hoped I'd not have to deal with him again. Again his mother offered many thanks and I waved her off as she quitted the beach. I brushed sand from my knees and legs and walked to our rented lounges.

Louisa talked to Mylow for a moment or so then sat by my side. I returned to my medical journal to hide my anger at the close call.

"Martin… I…"

"Good work on finding the boy, Louisa. That mum had better keep an eye out for that one!"

"Oh… I literally stepped on him in the shallow water." She sat there shaking, as she wrapped a towel about herself. "Close call. But kids can get into trouble, Martin. He's only a little boy."

I sighed. "If I'd have waited a few more seconds he might have started breathing on his own. But when I saw the bandage on his head and recognized his inattentive mother, I was not clear if he was having an epileptic attack." I looked her up and down. "Are you all right?"

"Suppose so," she slumped against my legs. "Thank God you were here, Martin."

"_You_ found the boy and _you_ brought him out of the water. Seems to me that any thanks are owed to _you_." I put an arm about her shoulders. "Well done."

She wiped her face. "Thank you, Martin."

The umbrella rental girl brought us fresh towels and two bottles of water. "I saw all that," she said. "I was the one run up to pool phone and called for help. But brilliant - just brilliant, both of you!"

I uncapped both bottles and gave one to my wife. "Best that we thoroughly wash our mouths out."

"Right," Louisa sighed.

We swished and expectorated for a minute or so. "Mouthwash would be better," I observed.

"I have some in my toiletries," Louisa said.

The Scottish girl chuckled. "Like I said, here you are a doctor, on holiday, and you're bein' kept busy! A real busman's holiday!" she laughed. "Great fun, right?"

"Yeah," I sneered. "Loads."


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18 - If

Louisa went back to the bungalow for a few minutes to disinfect the mucous membranes of her mouth, which was prudent considering she had been applying CPR to the comatose boy. I remained on the beach for some time, grumpily reflecting on the disasters that befell some people due to stupidity, lack of care, or being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Take my old school _chum_ Gerald for instance. I had saved his wretched life, but did he thank me? Not exactly. After he was hauled off to infirmary for observation, and his subsequent complete recovery, I might have thought that his bullying of my skinny self would cease. The constant badgering and tormenting did stop, but for one more blow.

The Head Teacher was very complimentary of course, considering the lifesaving I had performed. Unfortunately what might have been a quiet personal thank you turned into an all-school public pronouncement of my good deed as well as an embossed certificate. The school assembly was embarrassing, needless to say, to anyone, especially to someone like me. I had even refrained from writing to my parents about it, as I knew dad would call it boastful (which was quite funny considering he was the master of puffery) and was also certain that mum would sneer silently as she read anything I might write, no matter how factual it may be.

At the assembly, the Head made Gerald and me shake hands and pose for a photograph, of all things. Gerald caught up with me that night in the bathroom and thrust me against the wall, his hand bunched in the fabric of my jumper.

"You think you're so smart!" he hissed, trying to be quiet.

I watched as he made a fist with his free hand, his mighty left, of which I was the recipient too many times. I steeled myself for a pummeling, usually to the shoulder, thigh, or stomach, where bruises would not show.

"Too damn smart, Ellingham!" he went on. "Too damn smart aren't you? Cerebral and all! Mighty Martin the Giant Brain!" he sneered. He pulled back his fist to strike.

I sighed. "Should I have let you drown?"

That made his fist stop, cocked for the blow.

"Let your body lay there at the bottom of the pond for the fish to nibble on?" I was pushing him, for I was upset as well. "What would you parents have thought then, Gerald? Hmmm?"

His eyes grew wide and his arm drooped. "You leave my parents out of it, tosser! I should punch your lights out!"

"Go ahead Gerald. Hit me. Do your worst, you miserable cretin. I've gotten used to it."

"Oh?"

"Right." I braced myself for the blow. "Hit me. Go on. You don't want your little friends to think that you are beholden to me do you? But hurt me bad enough and they'll ring up your parents with all the details."

"Leave my mum and dad out of it!"

"Why? What's with your mum and dad? Afraid of them?"

He let me go, backed up and stared at me with stricken eyes. "Tosser!" He whirled and ran away leaving me quite perplexed at my strange victory.

It was much later I found out that his parents were divorced; his mum and her paramour living in Jamaica while his father was in Manchester, a high flying solicitor who was a workaholic. Gerald was the same sort of depressed git that I was – essentially friendless and nearly parentless – and I was his handy punching bag. I lost track of Gerald over the years, but I knew now as well as then, that he and I should have been allies, having similar backgrounds, if not friends.

At least the Italian boy, Ermano, who had an amazing propensity of getting himself into trouble, did have a mum even if she was less than attentive.

A man walked across the sand in the uniform of the resort. I saw it was Catalao and I groaned as I recognized him.

"Senor Doctor Ellingham! Once again you have had to step in to assist my guests! Thank you senor! Thank you very much!" He held out his hand and I wondered if I should count my fingers after I took it.

I gave him a perfunctory shake.

"So…" he hissed, "I have decided… after much consultation with the resort's owners that… we should ..."

I groaned expecting an unwelcome surprise. "What's that?"

He cleared his throat. "You are on your honeymoon, yes? You and your lovely bride had had your holiday disturbed…"

I crossed my arms peering up at the little manager, who looked down at me his teeth sparkling. "You are disturbing right now, senor."

"Ah! Si! So I come to the point. These unfortunate interruptions, which are so… distressing to the sense of holiday that one should be having at a time like this…"

"Would you please get on with it?"

"But of course." He drew himself upright. "The managers have decided that your stay here, at the Gran Resort Blanco should be…" his expression took on a slightly pained expression. "You see… these accidents, today and yesterday, they are… how to say… damaging to the Gran Blanco Resort – potentially. The one just here on the beach, well… might have been _muy perjudicial_, very harmful!

"Yeah," I sighed, wondering where Louisa had gotten to.

"So, Doctor Ellinghaaam. Your stay here is free."

"What? Free? What's the catch?" I asked with suspicion.

"No senor, no catch. Free – gratis – your bill I will personally cover, ahem, from my budget." He sighed and looked about warily. "Better to recognize that you and your bride," he shrugged, "have saved us from _ever_ so much _trouble_. The courts, yes! Very much trouble! Look! See!" He pointed. "Here they come now!"

I looked where Catalao pointed and saw a lifeguard, no _two_ lifeguards, arrive and while one climbed the ladder of the lifeguard station, the other took up position at water's edge to do what they should have done before.

"You see!" pointed Catalao and he clapped his hands. "Two lifeguards!"

"_Almost_ too late, don't you think?" I stood and now looked down on his slight frame. I picked up Louisa's carryall bag, which held a phone, my watch, and her E-reader. "Goodbye." I slipped into my sandals and left the man gaping in my wake.

He caught up, further pouring blandishments on me, almost like a dog nipping at the sheep to move them along. Yet this sheep lengthened its stride and I left him in my tracks as he tried to keep up. Fortunately a grounds keeper intercepted the manager and I escaped, for I feared he'd follow me all the way home.

I entered lucky bungalow number thirteen expecting I'd find Louisa. But the main room was empty along with the veranda. The bathroom door was closed so I knocked on it. "Louisa?" I could hear water running. "Louisa?"

A muffled voice answered. "Come in Martin," which sounded sad.

I cautiously pushed open the door into a cloud of steam. "What are you doing?"

"Taking a shower. I felt all sandy after the uhm… rescue… lost track of the time."

I could dimly make her out through the swirling steam and the fogged panel of the shower. I could only hear water running, not the typical sounds of washing up. Her swim suit was draped over the edge of the tub. "Louisa?"

My answer was a sniffle and a stifled gasp. "Are you well?" I asked as I looked through the panel.

"Martin… I, uhm…" then came the sound of a nose being blown.

Now I stuck my head around the fogged panel. "Louisa?" I could then see she was huddled in the corner, her face pressed to the tile, hands held to her face. "Louisa! What's the matter?"

"I, uh…" she half turned. "I was thinking…" she gulped, "how things might have gone… terribly, terribly wrong! What if… that was James? My God, Martin!" she almost shouted in a frightened tone. "I was thinking… that boy might have drowned!"

I sighed as I saw tears run down her face. Women would have an emotional outburst about things like this. "That boy _will_ be fine, Louisa."

"Will he?" She turned from the corner, the water sluicing down her stricken face. "Will he?" She put out her arms and drew me into the shower pressing herself against me like a coat of paint.

"Uhm… Louisa…"

"Martin… I…" she huddled against me. "I… need…"

"Sh…" I started to say and she kissed my lips, which silenced the rest of the word _shush_. I rubbed her back. "Coming out?' I asked when I got some air.

Louisa pressed herself against me and the feeling of her bare skin was enjoyable, but grains of sand glued to me with sun block made a gritty interface between us.

"You're all sandy too Martin."

"Scrabbling in the sand doing lifesaving will do that, you know."

She sighed with the warm water still pouring over us. I held her as she trembled. "I thought," she started, "what if we weren't there? What if I'd not found the kid? What if…"

"Shush," I told her and now I didn't mind the sand so much as her presence started to overwhelm me. "Too many ifs. You might as well ask what if I'd taken another plane five years ago or what if I never had to leave London?"

"Or what if I didn't come back to Port Wenn to have the baby?" she added.

"There is that." I held her close, closer than before in spite of incongruity of our situation - in a shower - with her naked and me in a swimsuit.

"Too many if's, Martin?"

"You can't spend your time thinking about all the _if's_ Louisa." I started to slide from her slippery grip. "You should finish your shower."

She kissed me and smiled. "Martin, you need to shower as well."

I started to reach for a towel so I'd not drip water all over the floor. But I could not quite reach it with my naked wife holding onto me. "I'll just get out so you can finish."

"You could," she cleared her throat, "stay?" Her hands went to work on my swimsuit drawstring.

"Louisa? For goodness sake!" I tried to push her hands away. "That's…"

"Martin, oh gosh." She said as the knot came undone with finality.

Again I tried to force her hands away. "Louisa! I couldn't. No! We couldn't! Not in the…"

"Martin, what if this was supposed to happen? Hmmm?" she purred as other things started to happen, accentuated by a plop as my swimsuit slid to the floor.

It struck me that there were many possibilities to life and this moment was one of them. There are times that one must roll with the punches, or as Bert Large would say, _go with the flow_. Luckily the flow of hot water was abundant since the bungalow had a solar water heater on the roof, for the shower stayed on for a very long time.


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19 - Friends

"That's fine, Ruth," Louisa was using her mobile for her daily call to my aunt. "So glad James isn't being a problem." She listened for a few seconds. "That's nice. So nice to know that. Can I just…"

I rolled my eyes at her as she sat on the veranda and I sat next to her on a two-seat wicker lounge.

"Ok," she started, "Hi James! It's your mum! Your dad and I love you so much! We'll be home soon. Bye. Bye! Love you!" She kissed the phone with a loud smacking noise then slowly closed the cover. "James is fine. Sleeping well. Ruth said he's been smiling a bit more at her."

I nodded my head and then stretched out a finger to wipe a single tear away from her cheek. "Are you alright?"

"Suppose so." She held the phone almost like she would call again. "You miss him, right?"

"It does feel odd, knowing that he's not in the room or just next door." We had put James' slightly larger cot in our cramped spare room. "Can't just go check on him."

"I know," she said sadly. "I miss him too. Ruth said that Morwenna came over last night and sat with him for a while. Bert gave her a ride and stayed for a chat," Louisa sighed. "They are our friends, you know. Nice to have them."

"Yeah," I scowled. "Friends."

"Well, I'm sorry, Martin! But some of us _do_ have friends! At least I do." She crossed her arms angrily. "I suppose Chris Parsons is about the only real friend you have. And I like having friends! It was Bert that offered the first real words of welcome when I came back from London, I'll have you know."

"And I didn't."

"_No_, you didn't." She looked away. "Certainly didn't." I could see her back had gone rigid and the line of her jaw was clenched.

I sighed, something I seemed to be doing lately. Since words would only get me in trouble I patted her back gently.

Louisa's head drooped. "Sorry, Martin. It still hurts; a little."

"I know. I was confused then. Very." I rubbed her back again.

"Yes you were. And you were distracted by someone else, I think."

"Please don't say her name." I told her. "That is the past, like the architect."

Louisa turned to me. "I was too; confused, I mean."

"Safe to say – uhmmm - that we both were. Confused. Conflicted."

She turned more and hugged me. "There I was _out to there_," she waved a hand in front of her now flat tummy, "and my baps all engorged and was _so_ hoping that we might be able to…" She looked up at my face. "Get back together, sort of. I had hoped, that you would invite me to stay." She bit her lip even now, just thinking about it.

I pressed my lips together in irritation as there was no point in going over and over that terrible evening, when so many things were set in motion, like a boulder rolling downhill. "Yet here you are; here we are. Both of us."

She interlaced her hand with mine and drew me into a deep kiss, when the bungalow phone rang shrilly.

"God! Who is that? Likely that awful resort manager!" I bristled.

"Better answer," she said as she trotted to the phone as I followed.

"Hello!" she answered. "Oh, hi! Hi Mark!"

I groaned as Louisa smiled into the phone, yet shushed me with a wave of her hand.

"Really? Really. You mean it? We wouldn't want to impose…" she said.

"What's Mylow want?" I hissed.

"We could do that, I guess." She covered the phone and said, "He wants to serve us dinner. Tonight!"

"No! No. Bad idea!" I kept shaking my head, recalling the whole Mark and Julie thing. Julie, or Emma was her given name, and I had parted on very poor terms as she accused me of professional misconduct and breaking patient confidentiality. The issue being that she was pregnant, and not by Mark Mylow, since he was sterile. It took no rocket scientist to figure out that she must have been pregnant when she arrived in Port Wenn, and was trying to snare Mark to be a husband and father to her child. I do not believe that she knew that she was pregnant when she came to the village, giving a certain twist of Fate sort of thing to their romance. More of the Port Wenn weirdness.

"Yeah," she went on into the phone. " No. No plans. That _would_ be nice – get together; talk about old times. Ok. About seven, you say?"

I shook my head in the negative to no avail.

That did not stop Louisa. "That _will_ be great! Your address? Oh, you'll come get us? You're sure? Ok, then. Fine. See you at quarter to. Bye!" She rang off as I gave her dirty looks.

"Louisa… that woman…" I started to say.

She put hands on hips and looked at me like I was a naughty schoolchild. "Martin! Julie is Mark's wife. And we'll have to let bygones be bygones, right?"

Standing looking at Louisa's determined face, I knew there was no escape from this misbegotten dinner date.

000

"You don't have to wear a tie, do you?" Louisa was critically eyeing my choice of dress, which was my blue suit, white shirt, red tie, and polished black shoes.

"Yes I do," I told her as we walked from the bungalow towards reception. It was still hot and I felt sweat start to run down my back. There was a hint of an evening breeze, but it was only a whisper.

"Oh Martin. You can't ever relax can you?" She swung her hand bag happily as she took my arm. She was dressed in a long t-shirt sort of dress, belted in the middle, with short sleeves. It was scoop necked and she was showing far more skin, such as legs, arms and chest than she ever did back home. Amazingly she'd done her hair up in some sort of twirled, piled up bun thing, straight on the top of her head, making her look all the lovelier.

"I'm… ahem…" I cleared my throat. "Hard for me to…"

She took my arm and hugged it. "You didn't seem too uptight a little while ago. Now did you?" She pecked my cheek. "Now listen while we're at Mark and Julie's just let them do the talking. Let them tell us all about their kids, right?"

"Right. But what about the… our… James?"

"Oh, well, let me tell them about him. Maybe all the details don't need to be aired in public. We can have some secrets." She rolled her eyes. "Not that I'm embarrassed; nothing like that."

"Louisa, I can't lie. We should not tell tales."

"Well what will you say then? Let me see. You'd say – ah, it will sound like this." She adopted a deep tone to her voice and all the Cornwall left her as she imitated me. _'Louisa and I decided to get married, so quickly engaged in carnal knowledge of one another. Due to a lack of proper care of contraception, we got pregnant. We did not get married then, but now we are, and our son is four months old.'_

"God."

She chuckled. "Like that, Martin?" The chuckle turned into a laugh. "And about Emma, or Julie I mean, what ever there was between you two – her pregnancy diagnosis – she'd likely want to put it behind her as well. Don't bring it up."

"Right."

"If you're wondering – if you get stuck – just clam up and let me do the talking."

I sneered, but added a twinkle to it. "Follow your lead."

"Of course! I have vast experience in dealing with parents and students. This is just a dinner between four Brits in a far off land. Easy as pie! And they did live in Port Wenn. Not like they are strangers. Almost friends, sort of."

"Sure. I'll follow your lead," I said unconfidently.

She rubbed my hand with hers. "That's right. Follow me and you won't go wrong."

I sighed and kept silent.

"There's Mark now!" She waved at a tiny and ancient Fiat Panda coming up the drive where I could see Mylow's grinning face behind the wheel. "Hi Mark!" she yelled.

I stood motionless dreading this turn of events.

"And remember," she whispered to my ear. "Let me do the talking. Nothing will go wrong."

"Of course Louisa, whatever you say," I grunted as the tiny car stopped by the curb.

"Mark! Hi! This will be fun!" shouted my wife.

I could only groan again silently.


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20 - Secrets

The former Emma Lewis welcomed up to their simple house with open arms. When Louisa gave her the floral bouquet that she had bought after forcing Mark to stop on the way, I thought the two women would have a joint crying jag as we stood at their door and the women hugged each other.

Mark slapped me on the back. "Isn't it great Julie to have the Doc and Louisa here?"

"I think he prefers to be called Martin, Mark," said Louisa quietly. "And speaking of names…" she turned nervously towards Julie with an inquisitive look, "Uhm, what should we, call you?"

Mark's wife laughed nervously. "Julie. I had it legally changed." Mark took her hand proudly.

"I just thought…" she stammered, "that… since Mark knew me by that name…" She coughed. "And Martin, how are you? Mark tells me that you two are married now!"

"Fine." It was all too awkward so I broke the tension. "A bit hot standing here on the stoop isn't it?"

Mark chuckled. "Sure Doc! I mean, Martin. Go through, won't you?"

They escorted us in to their small one floor house and showed us the whole thing in a flash. The rooms were small but adequate, but still bigger than an equivalent house in Cornwall. "We have enough room in the back garden for herbs and tomatoes. Even have an orange tree as well!" Mark told us proudly. He opened the third bedroom door slightly. "And there is our little man, Roger. He's sleeping."

Peering into the darkened room, I could see a dark-haired child lying on his back. "I see that you know to brace a baby so they cannot roll over, until they are older."

"Sure, Martin," said Julie. "We read all the baby books, didn't we Mark? Loads of help in those. Let's all let the babe sleep? He'll let us know when he's awake." She softly closed the door.

Just then a little girl ran in from the fenced back garden.

"And this is our little Amelia," added Julie proudly. The child looked quite like the picture of the fourteen-year-old Emma I had seen. Her hair was dark, almost the very image of the younger Emma I had seen in a photo. The child shyly hid in her mother's skirts. Julie picked her up and put her on her hip. "Sweetie, this is Louisa and Martin – friends from back home – in Cornwall."

"Hello," Louisa said. "Aren't you pretty. I'm Louisa. How old are you?'

The child stuck her thumb in her mouth but tried to hold up two fingers.

"You're two! A whole two? Wow! Good for you Amelia!" said Louisa encouragingly.

"Thumb sucking can cause deformed teeth and speech problems later in life," I said. "Did you allow her a dummy as well?"

Her parents gave me a surprised look. The silence was broken by Mark, who laughed. "Good old Doc, I mean Martin. Some things stay the same, don't they?"

Julie rolled her eyes and hugged her daughter. "Not all things, Mark. Some things _do_ change." Julie had kept her dyed blonde hair and other than a few lingering pounds from two pregnancies and likely a diet too high in starches, she looked much the same as when we last saw her, complete with a revealing neckline.

Louisa took my arm and squeezed it and not in a nice way. "Martin just means… that certain behaviors… can have a lasting impact. Right?"

"Yes. That's what I meant," I replied, as she increased the pressure on my arm so much it actually hurt. I turned my eyes a fraction and saw that Louisa had a look to her that meant I'd better be quiet. So I was.

Dinner was a broiled sea bream each, a fish I had never had before, served with fennel and an orange sauce. Mashed plus lentils rounded out the meal.

"Julie, this is so nice!" exclaimed Louisa, after we'd finished. "That meal was just delicious, wasn't it Martin?"

I was staring into space watching Mark feed gruel to their little son, who'd announced he was awake halfway through the meal. Baby Roger had Mark's square jaw and tall forehead, and his dark eyes regarded me with amazement as his father fed his greedy little maw. Clearly I was wrong, for somehow Mark Mylow's reproductive system was capable – of reproducing. Unless… I shook off the unworthy thought that our hostess had strayed once more.

Mark smiled as he fed the little bugger. "That's daddy's little boy! Yum, yum! So nice to have kids; Julie and me think so, at least."

"Martin?" Louisa nudged me.

"Yes. Dinner was nutritionally optimal. A solid diet of fish, rich in omega-3 fatty acids, is a good way to promote healthy metabolism."

"Honestly, Louisa, does he always talk like this?" asked Julie. "I bet you're a riot in the bedroom, Martin." At the end she gave us a suggestive stare, licking her lips and winking a little or so I imagined.

Louisa's head whipped around at the slight. "I'll have you know that Martin is _very_ considerate in that department." She slipped her hand to my thigh and patted my leg under the table. "Aren't you?"

I dared not look at my wife as in the last few days she had been rather needy, at least I think that was the word. But rather than disappoint her, I had complied with her requests each and every time.

Mark cleared his throat. "So what's new back in Port Wenn? Julie and me have been chatting away about us and the kids, and here you two on your honeymoon, somebody told me? I see wedding rings? What have you two lovebirds been up to?"

I tried not to blush, so kept facing forward. "Yes, it is; we are." I responded, taking Louisa's hand in mine from where she was sliding it further up my inner thigh, which made me squirm.

"Well," replied Louisa, "we have been together quite a while, haven't we dear?"

Dear? Louisa had never called me that, at least not that I remember. "Yes… we, uh…"

"Over a year," added Louisa. She squeezed my leg and I stayed silent but her roving fingers were making me fidget.

Mark chuckled and Julie smiled. "I could see there was _something_ there; way back then. "Of course Danny Steel was about, wasn't he? I suppose…" Mark said.

"That didn't last long," Louisa said grimly.

"And weren't you two, engaged though? I did hear…" Mark started to say, but stopped abruptly when Julie elbowed him in the ribs.

"Mark, why don't you clear away?" she said as she picked up a serving platter and gave it to him.

"Right," Mark said. "A man's place is in the kitchen!" He handed her the spoon to finish feeding their son. "I can take a hint. Want to help Doc? You and me, have a bit of man talk?"

"Go on, Martin. I know how you like to do kitchen work," laughed Louisa, so I followed the former constable.

Mark set to scraping for vegetable debris into a pot for compost, while I dutifully carried dishes and glassware to him. "Martin, that sounds funny. I guess in my mind you'll always be the Doc! But Martin it is if you wish."

"It is."

"Oh." He rinsed another plate. "So how long have you and Louisa been married? Last fall was when you stopped answering my letters. Was it then?"

"No."

"Has to be recent though – your honeymoon. Unless you're just taking the time now?"

"Ah, that's it." I changed the subject. "Mark, I am glad to see you so settled here." Married life appeared to suit the man. "Must have been quite a shock, the – thing with Julie – but here you are."

"Yes," he sighed. "When Julie finished her incarceration, she did turn herself in you know, and there I was taking care of her little girl, we couldn't very well stick around Bournemouth, now could I? Her mum had died and the rest of her family really didn't want anything to do with her. Poor girl. I started doing research and found that I could get a pretty good pile of coin working down here. The weather is great, a bit hot lately, but the kids love the environment and…" He chuckled. "You won't believe this Doc but this is the happiest I been in years! And Julie is the best mum and wife a man or child could ask for!"

"Ah, I see. So marriage changed you both?" I sneered.

"Yes! Yes it has! It's not been a bed of roses, but we do get on, and let me tell you," his voice dropped to a whisper as he nudged me with a wink. "Our things in the bedroom department, well, good thing this house has thick walls if you know what I mean!"

Oh God! Mark had been insecure about his sexual prowess or lack of for as long as I had known him, and along with anxiety, he had been a bundle of nerves in Port Wenn. Yet when I looked at him now, it was clear that he and Julie were good for each other. "I see."

"And how are things with you and Louisa? It was age's back she was a bit sweet on me I think, but when Julie came along, that door closed." He smiled. "Are you're doing well?"

"I'm fine. We're fine." I looked about the airy kitchen but ran my hand over the counter and inspected it closely. "I see you have a tile counter top. Best to keep the grout lines clean and free of stains. You may want to sanitize it thoroughly and then seal it with a good grout sealer. A solid surface would be better for hygiene."

"Gosh!" he looked at the counter tiles. "Hadn't thought of that. Doc, I mean Martin, I am sorry about the things at the resort. Catalao tries hard, but there are times - oh listen to me! You don't want to hear about work do you? Here you are on holiday – honeymoon – all that." He gave me a quick man hug as I recoiled. "Buds, right?"

"What's that?" I brushed him off.

"Oh, you know! You and me – we're buddies? There I was dyin' out in the words and you and Stuart the Forest Ranger came and found me, as Al was dragging my comatose body from there. I suspect that was hard to pull off."

He was referring to the horrendous weekend he and Al went camping and Mark got snake bit. In spite of the 'help' which Stuart gave, I did find Mark and give him the lifesaving injection he needed. "It was – difficult – yes." I even risked being shot with a shotgun and had my wrist snapped upon by a poacher's trap.

"Right then, Doc, uhm, Martin, I knew that Julie did love me. The way she was all over me when we got home from the snake bite thing! Although what happened three days later, when the Salvation army man showed, knocked the pins straight out from under me. Later, there were some things you said that made me think." He smiled as he patted my arm. "See? It all worked out. Me and Julie – you and Louisa. All a bit of the Port Wenn magic! Kismet, right?"

"Right." I felt it important to tell Mark about our son, so I started to speak. "Mark I wanted to tell you about our… ahem… well… we…"

"God! Doc! I forgot!" he whacked his head with a hand. "Help me with the dessert would you? There's a flan cooling over there. If you could carry it in?"

I put on protective mitts and carried the baking dish out to the dining table as Mark followed with small plates and a dish of warm caramel sauce, which did smell quite nice. He and I got to the table as Louisa was speaking.

"I didn't _plan_ on getting pregnant; didn't even _know_ it," my wife said. "Didn't find out until I was in London after we called off the wedding. It was the most _horrible_ time. Just awful! But I _eventually_ got back home and Martin was there - he stayed until the baby was born." She was holding out a photograph of James to Julie. "Here he is. And we've pretty much been together - a bit of off and on - since then."

"Oh, he's precious! Mark look!" Julie exclaimed. "How old is he?"

"Four months. He's so sweet. I miss him," Louisa went on and sighed. "And as things turned out… Martin _isn't_ going to London after all and we got married just a week ago." She gasped as she realized what she had said.

"You two!" shouted Mark. "That's fantastic! Why didn't you tell me? You've been keeping secrets from us! What other things are you keeping quiet?'

Louisa looked abashed. "Sorry, Martin, it all just came out."

I sighed. "Swell."


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 21 – Cop and Crook

Louisa dabbed at her nose. "We were just talking about… babies and things… and I had to tell the whole thing." Then she sat silently weeping while I stood there dumbfounded.

Julie's little girl toddled over, still sucking on her thumb, and handed Louisa a toy. It was tattered, bedraggled, dirty and worn and it looked like it had once been a toy giraffe. The tike pulled her thumb from her mouth. "You sad. Here," the child said.

Louisa looked at the tattered toy in amazement. "Thank you," she said through her tears. She clutched the toy to her chest then bent down and hugged the little girl.

"His name is Raffy," the child added. "She sleeps with me." Amelia hugged Louisa briefly then backed away. "Better?"

A little smile went to Louisa's mouth. "Oh, yes. Thank you sweetie."

"Oh, Amelia, that is so nice," said Julie. She touched the child's head.

"She sad, mummy. Make her happy?"

"We can try, can't we?" Julie crossed to Louisa and getting on her knees, put her arms around Louisa and started to cry too. The women stayed locked like that sniffling and crying until Julie turned to me. "You bloody bastard," she hissed.

"Me? What did I do?"

Mark interrupted softly, saying, "Now, Julie, uhm, why don't we…" He held the little girl, who was sucking her thumb as she happily sat in his lap.

Julie erupted. "No Mark! You bloody men! Get the girls knocked up and run away!"

"Now see here!" I bristled, "Louisa and I were, are, consenting adults and what we do, or _did_, with our own lives is only _our_ concern isn't it?"

"No, Martin," answered Julie. "Bloody wrong! Not even close!" She sighed and wiped at her face with a napkin. She breathed deeply then said, "Martin. It's not about just you now is it? You've got a baby; your son _and_ Louisa's. My parents did everything they could to help me and I threw it all back in their faces! Ran around, I drank and drugged… Oh, I was a rotten kid!"

"Now Julie, you don't have to…" Mark said but his voice braked to a stop when he saw the wild look on his wife's face.

"Yes. Mark. I have to, for their sakes! Louisa, why did you marry the father of your child?"

Louisa lifted her face and her face held a look of wonder. "Well, that's a funny question. I love him. I do, Martin."

"And you!" Julie turned on me. "Why are you married? Louisa says the two of you got her preggers and danced around for most of a year until you got back together. But you _did_ get back together. Why's that?"

"None of your business," I sneered. "I _don't have to_ sit here and listen to you."

"Doc, if you don't want to answer, don't!" said Mark.

"Mark, you shut it!" she told her husband. "Now, Doctor Martin Ellingham - the bloody smart posh Londoner former surgeon. You tell me why you're with this lovely woman?"

I opened my mouth and Louisa looked piteously at me whether willing me to answer or not I could not say. _You are in control_, echoed the voice of Mills the behavioral specialist I had gone to when I trained myself to overcome my panic attacks. _You are in the operating theater. The patient is ready. The nurses and technical staff are ready. They are waiting for you. _But I did not feel in control.

"I, uhm… I…" I started to say but not much came out.

"You listen to me, Martin," interrupted Julie. "The one thing that kept me going after I 'fessed up to my credit card thefts and made as much monetary restitution as I could and then paid my dues. Oh yes I did. And the dues were a cold cell six feet by nine feet. Cold floors and walls, thin blankets on a hard mattress, and everything was glass, steel, or concrete in there."

"Julie, don't start!" said Mark. "You don't have to…" he stopped when he saw the sad look in her eyes.

"Mark, I have to say this. For them!" Her eyes swung then to Louisa and me. "I saw you feelin' him up, Louisa, and he is a luscious hunk of man, no doubt of that. Now why, if he treated you so badly, would you do that? Why would you wear his ring – share his bed – rude tosser that he can be? Hm?"

Louisa had now quit crying. "I really… well, he can be very…"

"Martin," sighed Julie to me, "The one thing that kept me going _in stir _was that I had a baby to consider, and I knew that Mark would be waiting for me when I got out. Do you know that I had my baby, _our_ baby, in a prison hospital, with my ankle handcuffed to the stirrup?"

Louisa was shocked. "Oh, Julie, how could they? It wasn't like you could run off, was it?"

"No," said the forceful woman kneeling before us. "I couldn't, could I?" she rocked back on her heels. "And when I got out, there was Mark Mylow, _Marky_, waiting for me!" now she smiled. "And we were a family. It was odd getting used to being free but I was on parole for a year. After that was when we came here," she added sadly. "But when we stepped off the plane in Barcelona, I felt like I was reborn." She flashed a brilliant smile at Mark who returned it. "No, _we_ were reborn. The cop and the crook became Mark and Julie."

I was not quite sure what we'd gotten ourselves into. "But you don't approve? Of us?" I glared at Julie while Louisa sat stricken.

"Approve? Martin! You just told me it's none of _my_ business what you two do. It's only important to the two, now three, of you!" Julie stiffened.

"That's right."

"Right." Julie held out her hand. "Give me your hand."

"Why?"

"Just do it."

I gave my left hand to what I hoped was the _former_ grifter as she held out her other hand and took Louisa's. Julie joined our hands and interlocked our grip, holding them together. "Now," she said. "Make me a promise, one you will keep. And believe me I know the difference between making and keeping promises, don't I Mark?"

He bobbed his head. "I love you Julie."

"I know." She sighed then looked hard at both of us. "Louisa. Martin. The horrible feelings, the upsets and anger, the on again and off again – who was right and who was wrong."

"Yes?" said Louisa.

Julie looked at me. "Martin?"

"Yeah." I tightened my hold on Louisa and her soft fingers held mine even more closely.

Julie smiled at us. "I want you to take all that anger, all those harsh feelings and let them go. _Let them go._ _Now_ you are together; not then. But now you _are_ together. Parents, partners, lovers, and a married couple as well." She sighed. "And you don't have to apologize to anyone about what happened. Not to me or to Mark or to anyone else. Only to each other." She nodded at Mark who sat across the way holding their daughter while their little son played with food in his bowl. "If a cop and a crook can make it work, I'm pretty sure that two reasonably intelligent people like yourselves can work it out."

I looked at Louisa's whose luminous eyes held mine. "We have been… erh, trying…"

"To get on; we have!" Louisa spoke. "And I do love him."

"I love you, Louisa." The look on her face made me say it, but I did mean it.

Julie Emma Lewis Mitchell Mylow smiled her chameleon smile at us. "Fine!"

She stood up and dusted at her trousers. "Now! Let's eat this delicious flan and caramel sauce. I worked hard to make it this afternoon." She picked up a spoon and began serving it out, humming a little tune as she did. "You see," she smiled. "Maybe being in jail did me some good, didn't it?"

I felt Louisa clutch at my fingers but softly as I rolled my eyes in pure wonder. I sat down next to Louisa, while she scooted her chair a bit closer to me, and we held hands over dessert. And Julie was right, the flan was delicious.


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter 22 – Teacher and Doctor

It was at least an hour after dessert had been consumed while we sat and talked, more like everyone else talked and I listened (more like brooded) the evening ran down. Julie started to get their baby boy ready for bed while Mark started to read their daughter a bedtime story.

"We had our bath this afternoon, didn't we sweetheart?" Mark told her, as the girl climbed into his lap with a pile of books. "Now, which one shall we read? The one about the elephant, the whale, or about the spider?" Mark had put the tyke's pyjamas on her and the clothes were a riot of trees, bugs, and other things; ghastly, I thought.

"Fider," said Amelia her words emerging around her thumb which was firmly in her mouth.

Mark hugged the child in his lap. "Louisa, Martin! Soon enough you'll be doin' this with your little one, right?"

"We _already_ read to James," said Louisa. "Usually ones about the train or the magic fire engine…" her face turned at me. "Martin has his _own_ selection, though."

"Oh? What's that Doc?" asked Mark.

"We've been reading a series of journal articles about disorders of the parasympathetic nervous system and their treatment," I said.

"To your baby?" Mark laughed. "Sorry, Doc. For all that you have changed, somehow that rings so true!" He looked at Amelia. "Would you like that honey?"

The child shook her head _no_. "Fider book, daddy!" she said emphatically, hugging the tattered stuffed giraffe toy.

"James seems to like it," I said, feeling the fool.

Mark looked at but smiled. "Takes all sorts, don't it? Maybe he'll be doctor, or a teacher? Those medical journals might do some good, Martin – all those big words."

I started to bristle, but Louisa put a hand on my arm and that stopped the tension, somewhat.

Julie returned. "Mark, Roger won't settle. Fed him but he's fussy. You think _you_ could give it a go?"

Louisa caught my eye and she stood. "This has been so lovely, but Martin and I need to go. We can get a taxi, so you can help out Mark. We do know how the bedtime routine can be filled with rituals."

I shook myself out of my dazed and bored stupor. At last there was an escape. "Taxi." I reached into my suit coat and came out with the mangled business card from the day we arrived. Without thinking I pulled out my mobile and keyed in the number. "Hello! We need a taxi?"

I was answered by an unintelligible burst of speech. "What? God!"

"Here, Doc, give." Mark took it and in Spanish ordered the car. He rung off. "They say ten minutes; more like fifteen most like."

"You've gotten very good with your Spanish, Mark," Louisa told him.

He laughed. "Never was very good at that stuff until we moved here. Having to live here I was forced to! But at the resort, with all the guests and workers, been pickin' up this and that!"

"Yes," I answered. "I have noticed quite a number of foreign workers."

"Yeah, there is that. I don't know how Catalao gets 'em; but they do show up. Like that Alex the pool waitress – she's from Romania. There's Brits, French, Italians, some Germans… typical sorts."

"I haven't seen many Spaniards, though," I commented. "Odd."

"Yeah," said Louisa. "I thought that strange as well."

"Oh," Mark shrugged. "Don't ask me. They just show up. If I told you what was really goin'…" he stopped suddenly and looked about furtively in his own house. "I didn't say that."

"What's going on Mark?" Louisa touched his arm. "Is there something wrong?"

Mark laughed, but he was acting surreptitious once more. "Nope. Not a thing." An auto horn sounded outside. "There's your taxi!"

Julie and Mark walked us to the door for another round of hugs kisses, handshakes, more hugs, promises of calls, perhaps another dinner… I lost track after a while of the permutations and combinations.

Mark held our hands passionately and I thought the man would actually cry. "Today on the beach, savin' that kid," he nearly bawled. "But for you…"

Louisa stopped him. "Glad we could help is all, Mark."

He nodded. "I can see what a team the two of you are. I been wonderin' what Port Wenn looks like now, but I've got a feelin' that the place is in good hands with the two of you running the place."

Julie pulled Mark off of us. "Good night. Louisa and Martin – married – I never imagined that would happen!" She laughed. "Sorry, you two. Now remember what I said."

Louisa caught my eye and my hand. "We will, won't we Martin?"

"I…" came out, "yes." I hated even thinking of taking advice from Julie, but there it was. It sounded like good advice, anyway.

The former crook said, "Good." She looked down at her daughter. "Now baby girl, off to bed with you!"

The couple waved to us as we crammed ourselves into the small taxi. "Bye!" they shouted.

I let out a deep sigh as Louisa told the driver where we were off to. Mercifully the man was more interested in driving fast then talking like the other cab driver from the airport.

000

I felt tension flow away as the cab sped back to the resort and the temperature had dropped appreciably, making the air flowing in through the windows refreshing.

"Wasn't that nice of them?" sighed Louisa, who lazed back on the cushions.

"Yeah. Great."

"You don't sound happy."

I clamped my lips together but the words came out anyway. "Considering the source, I not sure the psycho-babble will be that useful."

"Really?" she sniffed. "Forgiveness not in your lexicon, Doctor?" She dropped my hand and crossed her arms.

"Not what I said, Louisa."

"Martin! The woman was trying to give us the benefit of her experience and hard-won at that! Give her some credit."

I sighed. "You're likely right. An unlikely teacher though."

Louisa relaxed and took my hand that I offered. "We're not all as cerebral as your, Doc Martin."

That made me keep my mouth shut.

"She's lucky to have Mylow," she added. "And I think he's lucky to have her. Each taking the other as they are. But they each _have_ changed, haven't they?"

"That they have." I squeezed Louisa's fingers.

"I've been wondering." She turned her head in the dark.

"Yes?"

"Have I changed Martin?" She held up her ring and it caught the streetlights as we whizzed along.

"Of course you have."

She nodded in agreement as the taxi pulled in to the resort.

I paid the man and he sped away without a word. We walked down a darkened path, our way lit by low and infrequent lights by the pavement. Bungalow thirteen greeted us, lights on low inside, where I knew a maid had already turned down the bed, placing chocolates on our pillows. Louisa loved the things, empty calories and all, and I gave her mine each night with a minor sneer.

She promised to eat them slowly and she was rationing herself, not gobbling them all at once. I no longer tried to monitor her caloric intake, as I found that self-regulation was the best policy, that and having a female fist stuck under my nose more than once by telling me to _shut it._

The door swung shut behind us and I secured the bolts. Louisa walked to the dressing table and pulled off her earrings and necklace. I shucked my suit coat and tie, put my wallet, mobile, and room key on the table and bent to take off my shoes.

"Martin?"

I looked up to see Louisa meaningfully pull the lacy apricot negligee from the dresser and hold it up against herself. She raised her eyebrows and I could only nod as my throat went dry. She smiled as she came to me and gave me a kiss.

Then she ran a hand through my hair. "You've changed too." She hugged me and I watched as she sashayed to the loo and the door closed.

I lined my shoes up by the closet, took out my pyjamas and brushed my hair at the dressing table mirror. The man in the mirror looked like a London surgeon, but in my heart of hearts, I saw the changes.


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter 23 - Rumination

Louisa snored loudly and all of my poking made her stir briefly but she swiftly returned to the arms of Morpheus. I lay there, wide awake, with morning light seeping into the room. The clock showed it was 6:10 and in spite of lying there calmly for almost an hour, I was not able to return to sleep, with thoughts flying about in my head.

"Louisa?" I nudged her again, trying not to let my hand sweep down her naked skin too slowly or explore too extensively.

"Hmm?" she muttered but was otherwise unresponsive, her lips smacking.

I took her slim wrist and estimated her pulse, which remained very slow, so she was still quite somnolent. I slid from under the covers, picked up my briefs and vest which had been strewn in abandon during the night. I looked down at my wife, her long dark hair spilling down her back and shoulders. I bent down and kissed her shoulder thinking of our engagement, the first one, back in Port Wenn. I sighed and padded to the bathroom.

I used the toilet, took a quick shower and had a shave, then dressed in the single pair of short pants that Louisa insisted I pack plus the vest she had bought for me the other day. I sneered at the ensemble, as the clothing was not something I was accustomed to, yet the clothing covered me adequately. I doubted I'd wear them back home. I slipped into my sandals then pocketing the room key went in search of espresso.

I closed the door behind me squinting at the morning light. My watch showed it was twenty to seven and surely coffee would be available somewhere.

The resort lay empty about me as I walked towards the main building and for the first time had a chance to really look around. From afar the grounds looked well kept, yet upon closer inspection the paths were ill kept in spots, with weeds growing through the gravel, bushes here and there seemed alternately overgrown and hacked down to nubs, and some of the bungalows looked fairly rundown.

I noticed that the front of each building was well kept, yet peering around corners found the stucco to be cracked, the paint faded, and weeds sprung up with abandon. I pursed my lips at the apparent neglect that was underway and thought the Grand Blanco Resort was neither grand but it certainly was blank – blank of substance with plenty of empty façade. Rather like a faded beauty covered in peeling makeup.

The main building was quiet, but as I approached I heard the shuffling of feet and murmuring voices in the café. A velvet rope fenced off the entrance and the lights were off, but from a rear door, there was light and movement. I went to the doorway and now heard raised voices; voices raised in frenzied conversation.

"Hello?" I called and the voices stopped.

A man came out, ripped off an apron and threw it onto a floral arrangement before he stomped away muttering in Spanish. "Gillpolas! Catalao!" he said with obvious derision and anger. "Tonto del culo!"

Obviously those were not terms of endearment. "Hello?" I called into the back after the angry man had stomped away.

A young girl stuck her head out. "Que?" she inquired.

"Buenos dias. Espresso?" That used most of my Spanish.

"Si. Diez minutos."

"Yes," I said.

The woman pointed to the terrace where we'd eaten lunch twice. "Hay?"

I went out to wait for ten minutes. The air was starting to heat up, and there was a slight breeze that stirred the palms and bushes. I sat there comparing this morning to so many back home. Far too many mornings I had awoken, followed my usually routine at toilet, a quick meal, then taking espresso on the front terrace. I'd survey the village spread below me and always found my eyes and thoughts drawn to a certain white house across the harbor. There lived a young woman who, in spite of our ups and downs, I found occupying my thoughts more and more as my stay in Port Wenn grew longer.

And then we had a relationship, a long separation, a reunion, and finally a baby. I looked down at my left hand where a platinum band circled the ring finger. Married. We are married. Despite all the dreadful messes we had gotten ourselves into we were together. Together. I rolled the ring around my finger feeling the smooth precious metal slide on my epidermis.

Mark and Julie were together and were making a go of it. So we too, Louisa and I had, got a chance to be in the sun.

What If Louisa had not come back to the village? Had if she stayed in London and had the baby there? Or worse, what if I'd not come to Port Wenn at all? What if I'd taken a job on the Isle of Man? And I'd never met Louisa? God!

That thought chilled me to the bone. I'd have stayed a bitter broken man, alone, playing with clocks each night, reading endless medical journals, honing my skills to heal the sick – sick people that I cared for as a duty only and nothing else.

But my time in port Wenn had changed the acrimonious surgeon into a passable GP – and now a father and husband.

Louisa. Louisa _and_ James. Their faces swam before me and the mere possibility that I'd never have experienced the… feeling of love and being loved made me gasp. I'd almost missed the whole thing! The Fates had almost thrown me under the bus but the magic of Port Wenn had changed the lonely man into someone else.

The morning light glinted off my wedding ring, winking across the table and my face. After a few minutes, I realized the little kitchen girl stood at my elbow. She held out a tray, with a mug of steaming espresso, a container of milk and sugar.

"Senor?"

"Gracias." I signed the slip she offered. In the background I heard other workers now moving about, cleaning the floors, bringing out fresh flowers, arranging the room for another busy day.

I sipped my beverage and watched the sun get brighter.

000

"Louisa?" I touched her bare shoulder lightly.

"Martin?" She rose up on an elbow, the silky sheet sliding deliciously lower. "Oh." She plumped the pillow and hoisted the sheet higher. "Sorry," she yawned. "Is that coffee I smell?"

I turned my head and she followed my gaze to a tray of scone-like pastries, boiled eggs, marmalade and butter, a bowl of oranges, plus two mugs of espresso. "I brought breakfast." I cleared my throat. "I thought you may be hungry."

I felt Louisa's hand on my arm. "That's so sweet."

I could only nod.

She sat up and the sheet fell and she smiled as my eyes grew wide at the sight of her loveliness. I got a kiss for my trouble. "Martin… uhm," she bit her lip but grinned. "Maybe I should put some clothes on and we can eat?"

"Yes." I broke our clinch but my gaze lingered over her. "We should…"

"Yes, eat," she whispered and trailed a hand down my arm as she bent to retrieve the apricot gown from the floor. "Then we might…" she smiled. "Do other things?"

I cleared my throat but felt a grin creep onto my face. I am pleased to say that breakfast was perfectly adequate and our dessert was even better.


	24. Chapter 24

Chapter 24 - Shopping

The street of Santa Marcos were crowded with locals and tourists, as there were a lot of resorts along the beach. For some reason Louisa wished to go into town, which wasn't that far from our resort, but it necessitated another cramped and bumpy taxi ride. The driver let us off in a large plaza ringed with the sort of shops you'd expect, and if you switched the signs from Spanish to English, they'd look the same as near a resort in Cornwall.

Louisa seemed to be inordinately happy poking into shops filled with bric-a-brac and handcrafts for sale. Hats and t-shirts seemed to fill many of the stores, along with racks of postcards, off-brand electronic cameras at jacked up prices, cheaply made watches and the like. Other stores concentrated on swimwear, beach towels, sand pails, and surfboards. Only a few seemed to offer items of any real value.

My wife hauled me into each one as she seemed determined to investigate every store in the plaza and on surrounding streets. My job, I found, was to carry parcels, which were increasing in number and nod agreeably, despite my inmost feelings. I sneered as Louisa pulled me into another store, filled with much the same as the others, although far at the back were racks of trousers, jackets, and such. Louisa immediately headed to those and started shuffling through the clothing.

"Is there a female genetic prerogative that you must shop for clothing?" I asked.

She smiled. "We do like to shop, I suppose." She took up a pair of short pants with extra pockets down the legs. "I do like these," she exclaimed. "Think these would fit you?"

I curled my lip. "Don't see when I would wear them."

"Oh, Martin! You need another pair of shorts!"

"Louisa…" I started to say and saw a hurt look appearing in her eyes.

She held them up to me and peered at the tag. "Think these would fit?"

"I'm not sure…"

She whipped her head about. "There's a changing booth back there. Go on, then."

I ducked my head and took the clothing in defeat. They did fit but I knew that after this trip, they'd be buried in the bottom of a drawer never to see the light of day.

"Do they fit?" asked Louisa through the curtain.

"They fit."

"Good! Can I peek?" Before I could answer she peeled the curtain back. "I do like those in khaki. They also have blue, if you'd prefer?" She said already holding out another pair.

"Louisa, I really don't see… that I'd wear these. At home I mean."

"So," she sighed, "you don't like me picking out your clothing, that it?" She sniffed. "What if I said I wanted to buy them for you?" Her head whipped around, her off-center ponytail swishing and every fiber of her being showing her ire.

I continue to be amazed at the many moods of people, especially women, especially _one_ woman. "If you wish - you _could_ buy them."

Her mood switched from one extreme to the other as her eyes flashed brilliantly above a happy smile. "I shall. Now, try these shirts on." She pushed an armload of tops into my hands.

"Oh, for God's sake," I groaned as the curtain fell back into place.

000

After a tussle with shirts and more negotiations with Louisa, I found myself the new owner of two pair of short pants, one blue and one in light gray, three shirts suitable for resort wear, as Louisa put it. The shirts were made of cotton, two in solid colors, and a white one with bands of blue and beige across the chest and arms.

"I do like those, Martin," Louisa told me as she led me to the cashier. She took out her pocketbook and drew her credit card from it.

The clerk worked to ring up the purchases while I stood aside, trying not to protest once more at the rising balance of our credit purchases.

Louisa looked at me flashing her brilliant smile. "Why don't you wait outside?"

I stepped into the blazing noon day shielding my eyes from the blinding light. In a few minutes, Louisa emerged carrying the newest bundles. "That was fun!"

"Yeah," I rumbled.

"You really didn't like that, did you?"

"No." I took a large bag from her. "I'll carry that."

She took my arm as we walked. "Oh, I should have bought you new sunglasses."

"I'll manage." We sidestepped around street vendors and the like on the narrow pavement. We were passing a storefront where people were queued up to buy local fare and drinks and Louisa braked to a halt to decipher the signs.

"Hungry?" she asked. "I'm a bit peckish."

I groaned as I preferred to keep to regular mealtimes.

"Aren't you hungry?" she asked.

"I'll live."

Louisa got into the line and as we waited I heard a disagreement erupt ahead of us.

"No! That's not right!" A Scottish female voice was shouting. "There's money on the card! There has to be!"

The counter man was shaking his head in an obvious negative.

"Try it again," said another young girl. "Por favor?" I craned my head and saw it was the girl with Bell's palsy.

Louisa touched my arm. "Martin? Isn't that the girl from the resort? The one with the face thing?"

"Yes. Something's not right."

Louisa, ever the teacher, interrupted. "Girls, whatever is wrong?"

The other girl turned and I saw it was the umbrella girl from the beach. "Oh, it's you!" She held up a plastic card. "This is supposed to have money on it! It's my cash card. The resort pays us using these! And," her face fell now leaking tears. "I don't have any Euros, just this. All we wanted was lunch."

"Oh dear," said Louisa. "Here." She dug in her pocket book and took out a twenty Euro bill. "That enough?"

The girl shook her head. "We couldn't take it."

"Yes, you can." Louisa looked up at me. "Martin we have to help them."

"Right," I grunted.

"Good."

000

The two girls from the resort, Fiona and Alex, sat across from us at a table under a red and gold San Miguel umbrella. Louisa was munching on some sort of fried fish and drinking a cola while I sipped water. The girls were eating a kind of sausage roll.

"We really don't know what we'd have done, if you hadn't come along," said Fiona.

"Oh, yes," added her friend, who was still wearing the sunglasses I'd given her. "You see, we don't get regular paydays."

"No? That's odd, don't you think so Martin?"

I grunted. "So you have no money?"

Alex explained. "We do get paid. But we don't get cash, just these cards," she held out the plastic card, embossed with her name.

"But it was empty, they told you," answered Louisa. "That does seem odd, doesn't it?"

"How long have you worked for the resort?" I asked, giving the child her card back.

The girls looked at each other with surprise. "Just this season."

"So you're new here. Perhaps there has been some misunderstanding?" asked Louisa. "Maybe you don't quite understand how things work?"

Fiona shook her head. "No way. But I think something is going on. My mum back in Glasgow has access to my account and she texted me the other day that usual week's pay wasn't deposited."

"So you're working for free then?" I grunted.

"Well, not on purpose, Doctor," she answered. "But we were talking that it does seem that there has been a lot of turnover - lots of people quitting and starting."

"Well there must be someone you could talk to." Louisa glanced at me. "Your department head or whoever."

"That's the strange thing," Fiona told me. "All the department heads have quit over the last week or so."

I turned my puzzled gaze to Louisa who returned it. "All?"

Alex nodded sadly. "Only Senor Catalao is left."


	25. Chapter 25

Chapter 25 – Art

We left the two grateful girls behind us, Louisa bearing a determined look on her face.

"Wasn't that interesting?" she kept saying. "What do you think it all means?"

"It means that there is something rotten in the state of Resort Blanco," I sneered, "to paraphrase."

"Yes. What do you think we should do?"

I braked to a halt. "We? Do what exactly?"

"Martin, those two girls - and all the rest – what do you think will happen to them?"

"They'll get other jobs or go home., I think."

"Just like that?"

I nodded. "None of our business is it?"

She grabbed my arm. "Is this the Martin that I married?"

"What do you mean?"

"What if there was a health issue to the public or to the village around us? What would you do?"

"I'd contact the authorities," I bristled. "Are you saying this is a health issue?"

"Might be." She bit her lip. "We should contact Mark. He might have some ideas."

"Louisa! We can't just go barging in…" I stopped when I saw her head flick sideways and her jaw had a grim set. "Oh God," I groaned.

I knew that when Louisa Glasson Ellingham got that look on her face the world had better watch out. I peered down at her and saw every bit of stubbornness she could muster in her rigid stance. "So… we should do something, you thin."

She nodded and her lip started to be chewed. "We had to rescue that child yesterday. What if even more happens? If the place isn't being well run there might be food poisoning, or the pools don't get sanitized, and even worse. What if the lifeguards walk off the job? Then what?"

I sighed. "You're probably correct."

She nodded as she took my arm and we began to walk down the pavement. "So… before we go back, I read there is a little museum nearby."

"I don't actually want to go to a museum."

She smiled. "Oh. What if I told you that I wanted to?" She now held the local guidebook, a dog-eared page open to a map with a list of locales.

I sighed. "Lead on Mac Duff."

"Second bit of Shakespeare in as many minutes?" She hugged my arm as she guided me down a side street.

000

El museo was more of an alcove tucked into the side of the narrow street and the attached gift shop was actually larger than the gallery, I believe. But Louisa was delighted by the narratives of the local history as well as the local artwork. Most I could understand, landscapes and seascapes, while some was quite bizarre. I peered at a large canvas painted with white and black on a red and blue background, showing some strange person with arms extended.

I put my nose inches from the canvas in trying to determine what it was. No that was no good either. When I backed up and that was not much better. I seemed to see three eyes and three breasts on the female form, some sort of netlike shapes, blobs and lines; all painted in angular strokes, none very well formed.

"Do you like it?" Louisa asked.

"No." I sniffed.

"It's famous."

"This?" I pointed to the crude thing. "It looks like it was painted by one of your Form Twos with bad eyesight and dash of psychological issues!"

Louisa laughed.

"What's so funny?"

"What if I told you the name of the painting?_'La mujer con el pescado' _or '_Woman with Fish' _it's called."

"Really?" I backed up a few feet and looked sharply at it. When I squinted I did see a woman standing in the waves. "Is that the fish?" I pointed to a blobby shape on the bottom.

"Suppose it is." Louisa sighed. "How can a man who can quote Hamlet not know much about art?"

"Art?" I exclaimed. "That's not art! Joe Penhale's painter brother could do better than that even accounting for the mural of Pauline he painted on my surgery wall!"

Louisa shushed me. "Not so loud, Martin. They say that art _is_ in the eye of the beholder."

"The quote is that _beauty_ is in the eye, Louisa. But I understand you."

Louisa flipped a page in the guidebook and pointed to a photo of the artwork in the page. She read, " '_Woman with Fish_' by Pablo Picasso. Said to be painted during a trip along the coast with his then girlfriend. Her name has been lost to history as he had so many – girlfriends that is." She closed the book with a snap. "Picasso Picasso also known as Pablo Diego José Francisco de Paula Juan Nepomuceno María de los Remedios Cipriano de la Santísima Trinidad Ruiz y Picasso his given name."

"Now you're showing off."

She chuckled. "I learned that just to impress you."

I crossed my arms, not trusting myself to say what I was thinking.

"What?" she asked.

"Nothing."

"Go on. Tell me?"

I sighed. "What is beauty and what is art, but to the beholder? And what does the beholden think then of the artist?"

"Oh," she started. "Who said that?"

I took her hand in mine. "I did."

Louisa kissed me. "Martin, I didn't think you had it in you." She laughed. "Now," she took my arm, "let's go back to the resort, and see if we can find Mark."

I squared my shoulders. "I think that Senor Catalao has some questions to answer."


	26. Chapter 26

Chapter 26 – Outfits

Our return to the resort was swift and uneventful. Louisa went straight back to our bungalow while I stopped at the main building.

No, I was told, Senor Catalo was unavailable. So was Mark Mylow for that matter, but I left a message for both then walked to our accommodation. I wondered what God awful mess Louisa and I were about to inject ourselves into. The resort looked slightly less run down today as the groundskeepers were out in force, although I distinctly recognized two workers. A man running a mower was from the restaurant and another was driving a sort of golf cart dumper carrying branches and other debris. It appeared that someone was making an effort in redeploying their workers, rather like a hospital after a disaster. That graphic analogy may fit the scenario as the resort was clearly under stress.

From the way that Louisa had snuggled up to my side and clutched my hand compulsively in the taxi made me think that Louisa felt this was some sort of holy quest she, no _we_, were on. I sighed as I recalled my usual experiences in such matters didn't always turn out fortunately. True, these sorts of things were typically associated with medical matters where I could bring my education and skills to bear, but they were in keeping with the basic tenants of carrying for people. Yes, people, I sighed to myself. Not patients. Not symptoms or cases – but people.

And speaking of people… when I cracked the bungalow door open, I had to shoo a small green reptile away when it tried to dart inside.

My harrumphing and exclamations elicited a response from behind the closed bathroom door.

"Martin? That you?"

"Yes," I called back to Louisa. I fanned my shirt collar. "I think it's hotter here by the beach."

"Yes," her muffled voice called. "Not much of a breeze, is there? Say…" the door cracked open, "can you come in for a minute? I've got a little problem."

The door swung open at my touch and Louisa stood there, her eyes wide and face filled with a regretful lip being punished by her teeth. "I bought this new suit…" she said as her hands waved over her body.

It was very obvious that this was suit number three and I was taken aback at the sight. It was a bathing suit; but what a bathing suit!

It was made in two pieces – top and bottom – of course, and it was black with large white polka dots. The cloth was a shiny fabric and the large white dots were neither too numerous nor too many, being perhaps two centimeters in diameter with wide gaps between them. I caught highlights of the bathroom lighting reflecting from the cloth, showing the iridescent nature of the material.

The expanse of her skin highlighted by the swim suit quite took my breath away stretching from her bared shoulders, an expanse of half-exposed bust, a sweep of still-flat stomach with a very few stretch marks visible, down to her trim bottom covered in a swatch of fabric with a tiny attached skirt. Her legs below were long, slim, and went all the way up _and_ down.

"I bought…" she stammered, her lip taking more tooth punishment, "this suit at a shop in Truro. Took the shop woman quite a while to convince me. It cost a packet as well." She held a hand to the back of her neck, holding fabric bunched in her hand. "And I can't quite get it hooked right. Can you help me? I got the band ok, but this halter has me stymied."

"The halter?" my voice shook.

"Yes. There are hooks on the straps." She looked up at me like an embarrassed child. "I… can't quite sort it."

I swept around behind her. The top of the suit had a narrow band around her back and halter straps reaching behind the neck. "Let me take a look? Shouldn't be that difficult," I said, feeling glad that I was standing behind her, as the sight of her affected my body greatly.

"Gosh. Thanks. I thought we could go to the pool." Her eyes held mine in the mirror. "I wasn't sure. About the suit, I mean."

My thick former-surgeon's fingers took the fabric strips and immediately saw the problem. "Your hair is stuck in the fasteners." I pulled her long chestnut hair from the hooks and peered at them closely. I saw five rows of hooks and eyes. "Which one?"

"The middle one, I guess."

I caught her reflection as she hefted her bust and held up the top. "If you could just hook it right there?" she asked.

I quickly hooked the tiny metal clasps, my thick fingers fumbling with the tiny fasteners.

"I think that's… just about…" she muttered uncertainly tugging at the edges of the material.

"Adequate?" My voice was gravelly as I cleared my throat and felt my pulse pound in my throat. I caught a whiff of her scents; the hair gel and conditioner she used that morning, antiperspirant, a dash of toothpaste and Listerine mouthwash, and the warm smell of her skin. A flush flew to my face and my hands quivered, now resting on her shoulders.

"Yes. Do you like the suit?" Her worried face looked at mine in the mirror. "I… thought…"

Do I like the suit? Do _I_ _like_ the suit? I pursed my lips and peered at her reflected face. The swim suit covered perhaps one-tenth of her skin, artfully arranged to cover slightly more than the bare minimum. It was certainly better than some of the absurd things I saw at the pool and beach, mostly made of string and tissue paper. I was no connoisseur of ladies' wear - far from it - and the climate of Port Wenn was not exactly one suited to _suits_ such as this one. I shifted my gaze from legs to her head scanning upward. The bottom part had a tastefully draping of a short skirt cut on an angle, the skirting entirely covering the derriere, yet clearly showing the shape of her bum.

Louisa tugged at the edges of the top. "You don't think it… shows too much?"

Too much showing? Louisa was no bathing beauty in that her natural contours were quite… nice. And James' nursing clearly went well as she always seemed to be able to feed him. Her breasts, having borne the brunt of a late thirties pregnancy and nursing, were still very… nice. That word again flew to my head. Nice? Agreeable, pleasant, satisfying… I shook my head to clear it. Lovely, desirable…

Louisa turned to face me. "So it's ok?" She still had that worried look.

The halter perfectly fit her, and while the exposed décolletage was sophisticated and it was very stylish, perhaps too much so. Yet the suit fit her perfectly, accented her good aspects, and made her very desirable. Looking at her wearing the thing made my heart beat faster, my temperature go up, and my thoughts in very obvious directions.

She put a hand on my arm. "Is it ok?"

Love comes in four forms, according to the ancient Greeks. They are agape, phileo, storge, and eros or so they believed. Agape was the first; the love of God, at least as interpreted by Mankind and those of the Christian faith. The second, Phileo, was the love of people for one another in a fellowship sort of way. Storge was that of parents for children and vice versa. And the last was eros, sexual love, which is self-evident, from which we get the word Eros for the goddess of love, as well as the word erotic.

And then there was lust, which the Greeks apparently did not even consider, or at least edited from their writings. Lust, a great desire to have sexual relations with someone without love, that known far too well by adolescents and college students, usually fueled by alcoholic spirits.

"Martin? Do you like it? The suit?" Louisa disturbed my thinking.

"Louisa, I…" my voice failed as the clash of lust and love collided in my brain. I inhaled deeply.

Her face fell. "You don't like it then?"

I took her hands. "I… like it."

"You do?" Her hopeful face shone up at me.

I cleared my throat. "Yeah. I do."

"You do?"

I managed to nod. "I didn't think that you'd…"

"That I'd wear a bikini?"

"Is that what it is?"

"Well, yeah. I wasn't certain… still have some of my baby weight of course…" Her voice petered out and her eyes swung up to meet my reflection in the wall mirror. "I can change… if you think that's best."

Was she mad? Did I _not_ like it? Looking at the fair Louisa in the bikini I felt like a starving man beholding a complete Christmas roast dinner with all the trimmings.

Before I could speak she reached out and grasped a towel and wrapped it about herself. "Sorry, Martin. I guess I wasted my money. I'll just change into one of my others."

"Are you mad?"

Fire flashed in her eyes swiftly followed by lowered lids and trembling mouth. "I should have known you wouldn't like it!"

"No."

"No?" her face swung up to face mine.

"No. _Don't_ change it."

"Oh?"

"Yeah," I growled and cleared my throat. "I… uhm… you should wear it. Keep it on."

"Oh?" She turned and the towel started to slip.

"Yes."

"Oh. So you like it?"

Louisa had suffered many times from gossip, mostly due to the antics of Terry and Eleanor Glasson and their many failings. Interject that into a small community and her life was at times horrid; must have been. And then a certain doctor came along…

I took her hands as she looked at my face. This was not about a swimming suit – not at all. Louisa Glasson needed the suit, or better the felling that it suited her (and it did superbly, the skin tight fabric molding every curve!) and she looked good.

The hyper-analytical part of me would have told her that she was exposing far too much epidermis, not for fashion, but for safety and health to guard against the effects of overexposure to ultraviolet radiation from the sun.

She did look good; very good, extremely good. Words were not enough.

"Martin?" she asked.

"It suits you. It looks fine."

"Fine?" her face fell a little. "That's all?"

"No."

"No? What do you mean?"

"I think…" I breathed deeply, "that it is the _most_ superb bathing suit I have _ever_ seen. Best of all, it looks superb with _you_ wearing it." I nodded with assurance and smiled down at her. "I think…"

"You think _what_ exactly?" Her teeth sprang back to her lip.

I bent my neck and kissed her full on the lips. "We should go to the pool."

"Oh," a small Louisa grin started. "All right."

"I'll get dressed."

Louisa turned from me and picked up her hairbrush. "Martin?"

"Yes?" she looked at me in the mirror again.

"I knew there was something special about you." She left the room and her smile was as bright as the sun.


	27. Chapter 27

Chapter 27 – A Confession

Louisa held my hand meaningfully as we walked to the pool, the recent incident of the new swim suit marking a watershed moment of some sort. Louisa suffered from bouts of self-recrimination at times. I did as well, yet being who I was usually kept my own concerns bottled up. However when those outbursts did occur, unfortunately I adhere to a scorched-Earth method.

Louisa was prone to nervous jerking of the head and neck, chewing on her lower lip, or semi-emotional outbursts when she was uncertain and her mental state were low. She once told me that she _worried_ about everything, _all the time. _That statement had made me wonder briefly if she needed a mental health evaluation. My late and great Aunt Joan had set me straight telling me that I took things far too literally, and that everyone, or so she claimed, had such feelings.

Aunt Joan, poor thing, never even got to see her great-nephew. Yet the day after Louisa married me, she insisted that we visit her graveside and leave flowers as well as _talk to her_. I thought the idea mad, bodmin that locals would say, but I sighed and went along with it.

Louisa had stood next to Joan's grave, the grass now growing well over the site, where she was reunited with my Uncle Phil after long years of separation. Louisa had also something prepared for the moment.

She had taken along flowers, plus cake and a bottle of fizzy water, where we toasted one another, ate the cake, and then Louisa had filled Joan on all that had happened in the four months she had been gone. Then she knelt down holding James and introduced him to his dead relatives.

My wife of less than 24 hours had put the flowers on Joan and Phil's graves then looked up at me where I was certain I tried to keep a scowl off of my face. "Martin, are you going to say something?"

"What do want me to say?"

"Martin, I don't want you to say anything. Anything you don't want to say, that is."

"Louisa, I really don't know why you insisted on coming out here."

She dug a toe into the ground and then cuddled James. "Martin, I really can't believe that."

"What?" I exclaimed.

"Joan loved you and I'm very certain that your Uncle Phil did too."

"Yes they did." I felt trapped by this line of conversation.

Louisa came to my side and took my hand. She kissed my cheek, then pushed James into my arms and put her arm around me. "Ok. I understand," she said then we left the graveyard overlooking the sea.

As I buckled James into his seat, Louisa stood quite near almost bumping me she stood so closely. I closed the door carefully and turned to find Louisa staring at me with a sad look.

"What?" I asked.

There at times that words are not enough for if I had lowered my armor just a fraction, I'd not have been able to function. Losing Joan had hurt far too much and thank God for Louisa and James without whom I do not know what might have happened this summer.

Louisa ducked her head. "Let's go home then."

We got into the Lexus and as I reached for the ignition switch, I stopped myself. My head turned to Louisa, sitting quite still in the passenger seat. "Louisa, I…" my voice failed.

She touched my arm.

I inhaled and said, "Aunt Joan was the anchor that kept me going, when I might not have, long ago."

Louisa patted my arm. "I think that's just about the perfect thing to say, Martin."

000

The sun felt hotter as we reached the pool, the concrete surround soaking up and re-radiating the stored heat with a vengeance. The pool was quite full with splashing and shrieking children and a few adults soaking to relieve the heat.

"Doesn't that water look nice?" asked Louisa. She had just stripped off her white cover up and I could practically hear a loud clicking of neck vertebras as her body was exposed to view.

From the admiring looks of most males present and the envious looks of a few females the suit was a success – rather Louisa was successful in her choice.

"Yes, it does… the _water_, I mean," I stammered.

"Oh?" She arched an eyebrow and glancing down her own body looked at me with a brilliant smile. "I need to send a note of thanks to that shop keeper in Truro, I think."

I could only nod my head, trying not to give away too much emotion. "There is truth in that."

We settled ourselves and I noticed several men whose eyes seemed to be riveted on her. I exhaled through my nose in annoyance.

"Something wrong?" she asked.

I opened my medical journal with a snap. "No." It was not fair to call me jealous, more resentful as I knew quite well what those XY individuals were thinking, and it was lust. Lust they could keep, yet despite of my wife's age and married status, and being a mother, she could still incite those feelings in others. A strange sort of pride filled me along with that idea.

We read for a time and Louisa enticed me into the pool where we swam. That is I wished to swim laps, an absurd idea given the number of people in the pool. Louisa thought hanging on my shoulders, splashing my face and trying to plunge my head under water was more to her liking. I finally succumbed to her maneuvers and tried to give as good as I got. That must have pleased her as she planted a few kisses on my neck and shoulder.

We finally got out of the water and as we dried ourselves, Mark Mylow approached.

"Hi Doc and Louisa. Uh, I mean, Martin, I understand you wanted to speak with me?" His Cornish accent had not diminished as he still said _Louiser_ when he addressed her. He looked Louisa up and down and I was upset at his scrutiny. "Nice…," he stopped and started, "bathing suit, Louisa. You look very nice, very nice indeed!"

I crossed my arms and glared at him.

"Sorry, Doc," he said. "But your wife is one fine lookin' woman, but you know that I reckon!" he chuckled. He cleared his throat. "Sorry to mention it."

"Thanks, Mark. Martin likes it too," she said. "Hi yourself. We wanted to talk to you about some very odd things about the resort. We were talking to Fiona and Alex, you likely know them, and they found there was no money on the resort provided debit cards. Those two were practically in tears…"

I cranked my head around at Mark. "We had to give the girls money," I sneered, "and they told us a few things that seemed very odd about this place." I waved my hand at the filled pool where plenty of splashing was going on. "Certain… irregular things."

Mark hung his head and looked away. Then he sat down on Louisa's lounge next to her bare legs. He _must_ have been upset as he did not give those lovely legs a second look. "I have a confession to make," he whispered.

"Which is?" I asked.

Mark bit his lips. "Well…"


	28. Chapter 28

Chapter 28 – Reckoning

Mark had the same look that Chris Parsons did when I told him I wanted to stay, no _was_ staying in Port Wenn. I was sitting in Chris' office at Truro Hospital, having barged my way into a busy meeting he was having. He apologetically dismissed three staff members to see to me and as they left his office the trio gave me odd looks wondering why I was so important to overtrump their meeting.

"Mart?" His face grew crimson as he blustered at me. "Do you have to be so bloody on-again off-again? We've just about finished vetting a slate of candidates for the GP's spot out there. All good people too unlike that dreadful Dibbs! Now you're making me give all of them the heave ho!"

"Too bad for them," I stated.

He shook his head. "Now you want to stay? I don't believe this!" He threw up his hands.

"Yes."

"Just like that," he snapped his fingers, "and now you're staying."

"I must." I sighed at the laser-like stare he gave me. I had dreaded this meeting more than some others, but the reckoning with Louisa has far more traumatic.

His face grew thoughtful. "Oh." He pointed to his visitor's chair. "Sit. Mind telling me why?"

I sighed as I sat down. "It's personal."

"Personal? Personal! Well, I never." He drummed his fingers on his desk. "You of all people - personal."

I nodded. "Why do you keep making me repeat myself, Chris? Do you need your hearing checked or have you developed a mental disorder? Yes, I need to stay in Port Wenn."

He rocked back in his chair. "I never thought I'd hear that. Bloody miracle." He pressed his intercom button and spoke. "Jenny? Hold all my calls and delay my next meeting, if you would. Fifteen minutes."

"Of course, Dr. Parsons," the woman answered.

"Thank you, Jenny," Chris answered.

I could not help but wonder at the difference in our styles dealing with staff. Chris was polite and too trite, I thought, while I barked out orders like a drill-sergeant. Elaine, Pauline and Morwenna all put up with me, but perhaps I could take a few pointers from Parsons.

We sat there in the following silence while my oldest friend steepled his fingers together and stared at me with great depth and a look of utter confusion. After a few pregnant moments he spoke. "Personal? You."

"Yes." Why did Chris have to play this game?

"You mean it?"

"Yes. Damn it Chris! Quit playing about, would you?"

"I just never thought I'd hear you say that, is all Mart."

I folded my arms.

"You're really not kidding are you?"

I shook my head. "You know I don't fool around, Chris."

"What about London then? All your preparations for Imperial?"

I sat there still as a stone. "I've cancelled that."

"Ah. Bet they tore a strip off you when you told them." He leaned back and started playing with a Biro. "So that was all rubbish, that it?"

"It wasn't rubbish! Why must you be so dense?" I squirmed under his gaze. "Must you pry?"

"Pry?"

I nodded slowly. "Chris…" I stammered. "I…" I tried to speak but words failed me.

"So you're telling me that you must stay in Port Wenn?"

I nodded.

"And that you wish to stay as the GP out there?"

"If it's available."

"I see," he hissed. "And Louisa's ok about this? When I heard about the village chemist going off the deep end and all that…" his voice faltered. "But I heard it came out all right."

I butted in with, "Louisa Glasson is fine with it."

"I see," he said meaningfully. He rocked forward and put elbows on his large desk. "Are you _sure_? _Really_ sure? You can't just go rushing back and forth!"

"Abut Louisa? Chris?" I bristled. "She…" I pursed my lips. "We have come to an accommodation."

"That what you call it? An accommodation."

I sighed. "Yes." I glanced away. "Chris… I need this job."

He smiled and stood up and regarded me thoughtfully. "Then I guess congratulations are in order."

"For what?"

"I thought you'd want me to congratulate on your new job, Mart. That's all. As the next GP of Port Wenn, that is."

"Oh. Right."

Chris came around the desk and perched on the edge of it. "So that's it then?"

I nodded.

So Chris stuck out his right hand.

I peered at his hand suspiciously. "What's that for?"

Chris smiled. "Mart. Just shake it."

I stood and shook his hand briefly and turned to go.

"Mart?" he called to my back.

"Yes?"

"I'm glad you're staying. Both for the village and… the other things."

I nodded once more.

"Give my love to Louisa would you? And the boy's doing well?"

"Yes. James Henry is fine, thank you. So is Louisa." I must have blushed slightly as it made Chris chuckle.

"Oh good. Very glad to hear that. Perhaps Diana and I can have dinner with the two of you some night?"

I did not trust myself to speak with the memory of the recent few days flooding into my head. Memories of Louisa's horrid mum decamping to Spain, Mrs. Tishell's breakdown and James' kidnapping and recovery, plus the brilliant reconciliation that Louisa and I had performed that very morning, as well as the previous several nights and days.

Chris went on. "I hear your chemist is doing better."

I nodded. "I heard that as well, but she's not my patient anymore."

"Good idea," he said. "What with the…" he waved a hand.

I looked away. "Anything else, is there?"

Martin shook his head. "Mart? I am glad for you. Give my best wishes to Louisa, too."

I walked to the door not trusting myself to speak.

"Bloody miracle," I heard Chris mutter as I left his sanctum.


	29. Chapter 29

Chapter 29 – Mess

Mark Mylow, former police constable, one-time disappointed fiancé, now father and husband, and employee of the resort, squinted at the two of us in the blinding Spanish sunlight. "Well," he started to say, "I… listen you two… I really can't talk about it." His hands twisted one over another in apparent anxious agitation.

Louisa glanced at me with a perturbed look then pierced him. "Mark, we had to rescue two of the resort employees in town when the poor girls had no money! And take it from me it's no fun being caught out like that! As a student that happened to me…" she ground to a halt. Her upset look swung from him to me and back again. "And it's no fun." She sighed and her shoulders slumped a bit.

"I know that things have been," Mark's voice dropped lower, "a bit strange around this place. Catalao has had a number of situations to juggle." He sighed. "Maybe we'd better go down to the shore, a bit more private there." He sprang to his feet. "Come on you two. Go for a bit of a ramble?"

I groaned but pulling my vest over my head for added sun protection, I followed him and Louisa. Louisa took the man's arm as we walked and I could not but help admire the view – the woman tall, slim and shapely, her bikini gloriously accenting her figure – and the man striding along with some measure of confidence in his white resort wear fitted as smartly as his police uniform used to.

After a march in the blazing heat to seaside, Mark took us far from sunbathers some distance down the beach. When he had us isolated by distance he faced out to sea. "You know, I really like this view," he said, pointing to the waves coming in ceaselessly. He inhaled deeply and let it out. "Does a body a wonder, don't it?"

I sighed. "Yeah. It's a cure all," I chimed in sarcastically. "Now about the resort."

Louisa touched my arm and I shut up. "Mark. What can you tell us? Are you in trouble too? That it?"

The man laughed, bending forward with mirth and holding his sides. "Oh, that's a good 'un! Best joke I heard in a long time."

I crossed my arms sending out a message of agitation. "The Grand Blanco Resort is _not_ grand any more, is it?"

Louisa poked me and I stopped.

Mark sighed. "No. There have been," he paused and looked about scanning in a complete circle, "difficulties."

"Pretty apparent the way the property seems to be run down, the hit and miss lifeguard coverage, the hacked about foliage..." I added.

"You seen all that," he interrupted.

"Mark, how could we miss it?" Louisa chimed in. "Seems to me that there is a lot more going on than just a missed deposit to some employee accounts. Wouldn't you agree?"

Mark pursed his lips. "I know that things seem a bit unsettled down here."

Louisa touched his arm and he flinched. "And another thing. We were told that all the employees are new this year _and_ that the department managers have _all_ up and left. None of our business, _but_ considering we had to render aid the last two days at pool and beach, and lend money to two of your employees, we just felt that someone ought to say something."

"Unless you want us to just ignore the situation and leave at the end of the week," I added.

She wagged her head. "We _are_ strangers here, Mark, but _you_ are not. So we thought we'd just mention it. See what you would say."

Mylow's eyes grew wide and then he screwed up his face. "Listen Louisa – Martin – I have the highest regard for the two of you, but…"

"Have things always been this bad here?" I threw out.

"No," Mark answered. He dug his toe into the sand and tried not to let us catch his eyes. "Bit of a mess, isn't it? Now I mean."

"Oh? Then you do know what we're talking about," Louisa added.

Mark opened his mouth, but was stopped by the sound of a heavy tread on the sand.

"Hello, hello!" The red-faced beefy man approached us. "What you three doing all huddled together for? Looks to me like a meetin' of the cabal!"

"Alf," said Mylow. "We was just…" his voice shook. "They're my friends, you know?"

"Oh really?" bristled the man quietly. "I heard what you were saying, Mylow. I strongly recommend that you shut it and right now!"

Louisa's headed whipped up. "You're telling Mark to shut it?"

"Yeah, I am. And the both of you as well!" Alf glared at me and Louisa with an air of command. The man poked a finger at us. "Now. Just let it be. I assure you…"

"You assure me what?" I bristled. "Who _are_ you?"

Mark sighed. "He's my boss Martin – please don't tell anyone that?"

Louisa looked the man up and down, his large chest and belly practically bursting from his shorts and singlet. "You work for him?" she asked Mark.

The rotund man put hands on hips. "He does. Now if the two of you would go toddling back to the pool, so I could have a word with Mylow here," he cleared his throat, "we'll all be happy in the end. Right?"

I opened my mouth to protest, when Mark spoke. "It's alright, Martin. Things are being… taken care of. And please don't mention our little conversation to anyone? Not even Julie knows."

I glanced at Louisa who had folded her arms. "Ok. We can do that," she answered. "But…"

Alf held out his hands. "Please miss? You two doctor. Don't make a fuss. Things are…" he cleared his gravely throat, "coming to a head." He smiled at us. "Things _will_ be just hunky dory. Now if you would go," he turned the two of us away from the ocean. "I don't fancy standing in this hot sun any more than you do. Off you go, now."

I started to protest, but Louisa took my arm. "Fine," she said. "Come Martin. We don't know you from Adam, but we do know Mark, and we trust him."

She dragged me away while I fussed. "Louisa, we have no idea what is really going on, now do we?"

"Martin, we have to trust someone, right?"

"Right," I answered, but inside felt unease.

"Now," she said hugging my arm to her delicious sun-warmed skin. "I think we should swim."

"I've got a feeling that Catalao is in deep trouble."

"There is that," she looked up at me. "Let's hope to God that Mark isn't on the wrong end of all this. That would be terrible wouldn't it?"

I could only think that if he was mixed up in the mess, then the now-reformed Julie Mitchell would be frightfully upset with him.


	30. Chapter 30

Chapter 30 – Tales

Louisa held my fingers in hers as we returned to poolside and her grip felt somehow calming after the strange beach conversation. Looking back towards the beach I saw Alf apparently remonstrating with the former constable, with arms flailing and finger pointing. "Looks like Mark is getting a chewing out."

Louisa turned and saw the same thing. "Poor Mark - but still - something odd _is_ going on." She sighed. "I wonder…" she started to say as a female voice called out to us as we approached the pool.

"Hello? Louisa! Yoo-hoo!"

I saw the pregnant woman from the plane, Alf's wife I supposed, waving to us.

"Hi!" Louisa waved back. "Maybe she can tell us something?" She altered direction and nearly dragging my arm from my socket, pulled me towards the woman who was propped up beneath a large umbrella near the pool.

"Well, hello you two," she said. "Haven't seen you much about. Having a good time?" Her expanded form looked even larger then just days ago on the plane, upping my estimates of the stage of her pregnancy.

Louisa looked down at her. "How are you? It's Deirdre, right?"

"Yes. Alf and I have been pretty much hanging out by this lovely pool. I love to get into the water," she patted her belly. "This thing feels so much better with support."

"Yes," I nodded, "water helps to support your uterus and the baby. Since most amniotic fluid can be considered as nearly pure water, being deeply immersed alleviates the force of gravity."

"Right," she said in a surprised tone. "Forgot you are a doctor. It's Martin right?"

"Doctor Ellingham," I corrected. "How are you," I waved my hand at her, "doing in this heat? Drinking plenty of water? Staying cool? Feeling fit?"

"Yes, trying to." She held up a water bottle and shook it the contents sloshing. "My doc back home warned me to keep hydrated, so I am. Just been sitting here reading mostly." She held up a paperback with a lurid bodice-ripping cover.

I ignored the book and nodded. "One way for a pregnant woman to tell she is getting dehydrated, is that Braxton Hicks contractions will increase in frequency. Feeling many of those?"

Deirdre turned an astonished head to Louisa. "He always like this? So… direct?"

Louisa sighed. "Not always…" her face fell. "But how _are_ you getting on?"

"Middling, you know. You're a mum. You've been through this."

"Yes, I have," Louisa sat down on a lounge. "Having a last holiday before the big day, I suppose."

Deirdre shook her head. "Not really. You see…" her voice quieted and she looked around and then furtively continued, "Alf had to travel for business."

Louisa glanced up at me as I rolled my eyes. "Really? Oh dear. That is a shame."

"Yeah. His bosses told him to get down here tout de suite. We had planned on just going to Brighton for a few days, then he rung up all in a hurry. Sent me off to get an ok from my GP, then here we are." Her face blanched and she clutched at her belly.

This might not be good. "Pain?" I asked as her face relaxed.

"No, not really. More of a tightening…" she muttered. "That was odd."

"How so?"

She laughed. "Like a big elastic got tight across my back. Gone now."

"When's your due date?"

She inhaled deeply. "About eight weeks."

"And they let you travel?" I bristled. "Any GP worth his salt…"

"Oh, Martin, stop," Louisa cut me off. "Go on, Deirdre."

"Louisa! Eight weeks pre-delivery is just about at the limit of recommended air travel time!" I crossed my arms angrily. "Who's your GP? I should call them!"

"No! I'm ok, really," Deirdre told me. "I just need to lie down. Considering the amount of time that Alf has been out and about I don't really know why he made me come."

"Out and about?" Louisa asked.

"Oh, yeah," she fanned herself with a broad brimmed hat. "For work."

"What's he do?" my wife asked.

She looked around then whispered to us, "He's an investigator."

My head whipped up. "Investigator?"

"Yeah. He's always traveling. Mostly to Spain and Italy. Works for a lot for companies that are having financial or management trouble. Like this one…"

"Oh?" Louisa gave me an eye and went on. "Trouble."

"Oh, yeah," Deirdre's head bobbed. "Financial, mostly. This time he said I should come along. Good cover he told me, while he figures out what's going on at the resort."

My turn. "Cover, he said?"

"Yes. Like camouflage."

"So your husband's company is using a woman very late in pregnancy as protective camouflage while he is here on work?" my voice rose. "That's…"

Louisa grabbed my hand. "That is _too_ bad," she said soothingly. "Too bad that he can't spend more time with you," she added. "When the baby comes," she gave me a long stare, "you might not have as much time with your husband, as you might like." She shrugged. "Just saying."

"Yeah," Deirdre said. "I've been having a really nice holiday, but I might as well be here by myself."

"So sorry to hear that," Louisa said. "And here comes your husband."

Alf barreled up to us with a surprised look. "Wot's going on? Why you grillin' Deirdre? Deridre," he spoke through gritted teeth, "have you been tellin' tales again? She does that sometimes."

"No," I told him. "She was explaining how she has been having more frequent Braxton Hicks contractions, which may be normal, considering the advanced state of her pregnancy. Alf, I think you should take this woman to your room where there is air conditioning. Make sure she drinks plenty of water as well." I crossed my arms. "Understand?"

Deirdre reached up and took his hand. "Alf, I would like you to rub my feet. They do ache at times."

"That would the loosening of the ligaments of the feet due to maternal hormones. It's called _relaxin_ and is part of the process preparing her body for delivery." I cleared my throat. "Are you sure that you are due in eight weeks?"

Deirdre looked at me abashedly. "Pretty sure."

"Pretty sure?" I asked.

"Yeah," she fluttered her eyes at me. Pulling herself erect with difficulty and by tugging on Alf's arm she stood while grunting. "Come on old boy. A foot rub?"

Alf ducked his head and allowed his wife to lead him off.

Louisa watched the pair slowly move away and as I watched the woman waddle, my suspicions were peaked. "There is no way that she is due in nearly two months!" I hissed. "Or she has diabetes of pregnancy and her water retention is tremendous."

"Oh, Martin. Perhaps she's just, uhm, large?"

"Right. I doubt it."

She smiled at me. "So I think a rub down sounds quite nice, don't you?"

"Do your feet hurt; that it?"

She chuckled. "No. Not quite." Her fingers inter-laced with mine and rubbed the back of my hand.

I had learnt over the last month that Louisa sent me messages with such motions.. "I see."

"Come on then," she chuckled. "I'll just get our things, then." Her smile rivaled the sun as she turned away.

I watched as she walked to our pile of pool things, and admired the view as she bent down and filled her carryall. I heard a low whistle from behind me. There was a young man blowing a wolf-whistle and I stopped him with a glare. "Have a care, fellow! That's my wife!"

"Excusa me, senor," the man said but his grin was just as loud as his whistle.

Louisa called, "Martin? Are you coming?"

My neck turned my head from the man to Louisa and back. "Yes. Yes, I am." With pride and anticipation I squared my shoulders, walked across the pool terrace and took her arm, knowing that there were any number of eyes on our backs as we strolled away.


	31. Chapter 31

Chapter 31 - Food

On the way to the bungalow, I smote my forehead.

"What's the matter?" Louisa asked.

"I forgot to eat lunch. You did; I didn't."

"We can get take away from the restaurant."

"Likely to be horrid prepackaged salmonella on toast," I exclaimed. "I'd rather go hungry."

Louisa sighed. "Oh, Martin. Don't be that way."

I then added to my concerns about sanitation, the heat, and unknown persons who would be preparing the meals. So Louisa swatted my arm. "Stop it. Don't be such a grump." She guided me into the cool dimness of the restaurant where a sign informed us in several languages that food service would begin again at 5 PM.

"Lord," I whined. "Room service, I suppose, now."

"Wait," Louisa craned her head towards the bar. "Come on, grumpy puss." She literally dragged me to wards the bar where the petite female bartender of the other evening was cleaning the counter.

"Senora, senor," she greeted us.

"Do you have any lunch items, please? I know we're late…" Louisa apologized.

The barmaid smiled. "Si. Some. Uno minuto," she told us in heavily accented words then disappeared into the kitchen.

I surveyed the dim, yet cool room, where some guests lounged by the telly watching a football match and drinking. "I don't like eating in pubs, you know."

Louisa smiled. "Beggars can't be choosers, right? If you'd eaten when I did…" she stopped when the barmaid returned with two menus, silverware, and two glasses of ice water.

Escorted by the barmaid we sat on a small table, well back from the telly and I drank some water. I peered at the menu while the barmaid hovered over us, although with her small stature, her eyes barely topped my head when I was seated. "Senora? Senor?" she prompted us.

I scrutinized the menu, finally pointing to an item I interpreted as fish. "Uno."

"Senora?"

Louisa pursed her lips. "I think sangria might be nice. Uno sangria, por favor?"

The barmaid nodded and whisked away. In a moment Louisa was slurping purple-red sangria from a large brandy snifter with slices of oranges floating about. "That is good," she licked her lips. "Try some?"

"No."

"Sure? It's nice and cold."

"I'm fine." I drank ice water and tried to ignore the people at the telly who hooted and yelled occasionally. "That's why I don't like pubs – too noisy."

Louisa opened her mouth and my mobile rang from the depths of the carryall. "Oh Lord," I said as Louisa fumbled in the bag, while I held out my hand. She plopped the phone into my hand and I snapped it open. "Ellingham."

"Doc? That you? It's Bert. Bert Large!"

I rolled my eyes as Louisa started. "Bert! I am on holiday!"

"I know that," the fat man replied, "but I was up to see the loco they sent out here. I don't quite agree with what she told me!"

"That's locum Bert. Locum is the Latin for temporary. Loco is something entirely else! Now why have you called?" I yelled back.

"Well, Doc, it's like this see? I was feeling a might poorly, sort of dizzy-like. Al suggested I go up there to see your stand-in, and I have to say that I didn't like at all. Not a bit!"

"What's wrong?" asked Louisa. "That Bert?"

"Yes," I told her. "I've not met the stand-in Bert. Just follow the orders, not that you have _ever_ followed any of mine!"

"Doc! She told me to cut my meals way down; way down!" He bickered. "If I was to eat as little as what she told me, I'd waste away to nothing!"

"What is it with you people? I bellowed. "Your blood pressure is still far too high, your triglycerides are off the chart, you have never followed any of my directions…"

"Doc! Doc! I know, I know! Her name is Doctor Elizabeth Bell, by the way, and a pretty little thing she is. But her advice was Bodmin; totally Bodmin!"

I shook my head at the mobile while he blathered on. "Bert!" I tried to interrupt.

"And besides, Doc! If I was to cut out sweets and pastries, and a pint as well, I might as well just lay right down and die – then and there! What would be the point of living?"

"Do you want to die like Joan Norton? Of a myocardial infarction? Or a cerebral hemorrhage?"

"Now Doc, none of us is going to live forever. Your Aunt Joan was a saint, a saint, but you know that."

"Well, if she had not eaten a diet high in cholesterol from fried foods…"

Louisa put a hand on my arm. "Martin!" she hissed at me. "No need to shout."

"Pasties, a couple of pints, fried eggs with bacon, fried kippers…"

"All good Cornish food Doc!" He laughed. "I bet you're getting all red in the face now, aren't you?"

That made me stop my shouting, more than Louisa's words. I flashed back to Chris Parsons dealing with his staff and how smoothly he did it. I sighed. "Bert," I said slowly and carefully, "if you wish to live to a ripe old age, then I suggest that you seriously consider what I and this Doctor Bynes…"

"Bell, Doc! Doctor Bell. Rimes with bell, you know? As in _clear as a bell_?" he chuckled.

"Right. Bell then. If your blood pressure is elevated, as always, then you must reduce your dietary sodium, and continue take the beta-blockers I have you on. Are you taking your cholesterol medication?"

I heard him stammer. "Might have forgot them this morning. And a good kipper is just what I had a hankering for at breakfast. With a fried egg as well."

Louisa's drank her sangria. "Martin, you are trying to plug the hole in the dike with a reed." She shook her head.

"Bert," I tried a different tack, "at some point, your son may get married and have children. Don't you wish to live to see a grandchild?"

I heard a shocked silence for a few seconds. Then the former plumber spoke. "Funny you mentioned that, Doc. Al said the very thing to me just minutes ago. But even so, Doc, man does not live by bread alone!"

"Well then. Your choice." I rolled my eyes at the mobile. "Anything else?"

"Yeah! Is that fair lady of yours nearby? I thought she'd like to get a little tyke report."

I handed the mobile to Louisa. "He wants to speak to you." Just then my luncheon arrived. A grilled fish packed into a tortilla with what looked like pickled cabbage, rice, beans, and corn stared up at me from the plate. I inspected it carefully while Louisa chatted with Bert.

Louisa was all animated and smiling while she chatted with Bert. Considering she had spoken to my Aunt Ruth this morning, I was uncertain what new information she might hear. After minutes while I tore into my meal, and found it surprisingly good, Louisa rung off.

"Well, James is well. Bert and Morwenna went out to the farm last evening and took dinner to Ruth. Sounds like they had quite an evening playing with the baby. Seems that Morwenna had done a bit of baby-minding for cousins and such. I didn't know that." She added a few details about how James chortled at them all evening. "Bert claims he was teaching him to say _Bert_."

I turned up my nose at that news.

"How's your fish?"

"Adequate."

"Oh? From the way you wolfed that down, I'd say it was more than just that." She handed me the mobile and I felt her cool flesh stroke against mine.

What had Bert said? Man does not live by bread alone? I beheld her cool and passionate eyes. "It's good, then. Quite good."

Louisa grinned and drank her sangria. "Good," she said bouncing her foot, occasionally brushing it against my leg. "I'm glad," she said and the room seemed to light up as I looked at her.

More than bread, I thought as I looked at her beautiful face; much more than bread.


	32. Chapter 32

Chapter 32 – Why

Later at the bungalow, I was sitting on the sofa reading a journal when Louisa came from the loo. She trailed a hand across my neck and plopped down beside me, now wearing beige crop pants and a turquoise sleeveless top. My swim suit was well dried from the fierce heat so felt no compunction to change, as we'd discussed going to the beach later. I yawned, long medical words blurring on the page.

"Tired?" Louisa sat with her legs drawn up almost yoga-like with her hand across my shoulders.

"Not actually, no. I ate too late."

Louisa laughed.

"What's so funny?"

"You do have a schedule, don't you?" Her fingers now played with my hair. "Didn't mean to laugh."

I nodded and tried to read once more.

"Just saying that you are rather regimented." She sighed and laid her head on my shoulder. "I was thinking…"

I sighed. "About what?" I turned a page and crossed my legs as I felt discomfited with her pressed so closely to me. That was odd, as weren't we together; far more than we had ever been?

"Oh… about us."

God! There were things about us that were, strange, murky, and unsorted. And each time we started a conversation like this, I felt like a schoolboy in some way – embarrassed, harassed, as well as shamed. I closed the journal. "Louisa, I know that things had been – unsettled - in our past. But aren't we trying to move on? Make a stable home for James, all that?"

She wrapped her other arm about me and kissed my cheek. "I don't mean that, Martin."

"Well, what then?"

She bit her lip and looked away. "When we, ahem, got engaged…"

When Louisa spoke like that I knew she meant _when we got pregnant._ "That's not what we meant to do…"

She stopped me with her hand over my mouth. "Martin, yes, I know that! I mean at the Castle; Pentire Castle."

"Ah." Pentire Castle, where we had intercepted Mrs. T and recovered James Henry. "We didn't exactly get engaged then did we?"

She sighed. "I sort of think it like that."

"Right."

"I mean… there we were trying to get Sally to open the door, and…" she looked away but kept hugging. "Why? _Why_ did it take all _that_ to have you say the things you did say?" She turned her head back to mine and met my eye. "Why?"

I licked my lips but she kept speaking.

"I am glad we did get married, rushed as it was. That's the other thing. Why a week and half ago, and not a month ago? When we got back to surgery, ahem, we did make up, didn't we?"

"Yes, yes we did." I recalled our passionate night *; the night of the dense fog and Bert Large's cocked-up ghost tour. Bert came out a hero in that along with Al, Penhale, and even Buddy.

She looked down at her wedding ring and wiggled it about by rolling the fingers of her left hand. "I just… need to know."

"Well, we had a baby."

"That's not the only reason. The whole London, surgery, leaving, not leaving thing. Makes my head spin. No wonder Mrs. T went a bit off the rails. Not complaining, that is. Not about how it turned out."

I dropped the journal on the floor and turned to face her. "I felt at the Castle…" I cleared my throat and felt tears prick my eyes. "It was the taxi all over again."

"The taxi? Oh… Tommy's taxi."

"I thought when I saw the crashed taxi and did not see you…"

"But I _was_ fine. Of course, having the baby in the pub was not exactly well planned was it?"

I shook my head. "So at Pentire with my back to the cliff, literally. I…" suddenly my chest felt tight and air became scarce. "I… knew that if I left… Port Wenn… I'd not…" I had to stop.

"But you worked so hard to overcome the hemophobia, Martin! Although," she sniffed, "That bloody Edith didn't help us out either, now did she?" Her face had gone white.

My hands tightened on her arms. "Didn't we agree not to bring _her_ up? _Ever_?"

"I know, but still. It hurts."

I held her hands to comfort her. "No. No still. _She is gone_; the past; the dim past." I inhaled deeply. "But the Castle. I… had to do… something."

"Well," she smiled. "You did! You saved James. Got him back safe and sound."

I shook my head. "More than that. I had to save…" my voice froze in my throat.

Louisa saw the look on my face and tears began to flow down her cheeks. "No, Martin. Don't be sad."

I swallowed hard. "Louisa, I had to say something to stop the juggernaut that was barreling along. I thought I knew what I wanted… London, surgery, the flat there. But I was wrong. So wrong. And you've given me another chance."

She smiled at me. "It's all right _now_."

I sighed. "Is it? No Louisa. I had to save _me_, and _us_, and _James_." I yawned and again.

"I know," she nestled into my arms and I felt her warmth and softness. "We'd have tried to work it out."

"From Cornwall to London; the width of the country between us? I was miserable thinking I was to leave. By then…" My mouth opened and sucked in a great breath and felt very drowsy.

"Almost too late," she murmured as she slipped a hand under my vest. "Not too late now, you know." She started rubbing my back and then my neck and this went on for some time. We kissed as I relaxed and surrendered to her ardent caresses and felt the room start to slide away, the late lunch having done its work. I felt a warm leg go across my lap and rubbed it absently. She started plastering my face with kisses as she worked my vest up and off over my head. I lay there nearly inert, enjoying the feeling.

"Martin?"

I heard her voice come from far off – very far off. "Hmmm?"

"Martin?"

I sighed and felt myself sliding further – down deep.

"Martin," she asked from far away. "Are you _asleep_?"

I didn't feel my body anymore as sleep pulled me in, splayed across the sofa with her warmth pressed against me.

"Damn it!" she hissed thru gritted teeth. "You _are_ asleep!"

Dimly I heard myself snore as Morpheus, the god of sleep and dreams, took me in his arms.

"Martin?" a heavy sigh. "Pish!" I vaguely heard her say before all went black.

*** Author's note:**

**Martin is thinking of the events in my FF story "Unfathomable" which primarily takes place on the night of the Pentire Castle incident.**


	33. Chapter 33

Chapter 33 – Recollection

The minister looked very levelly at me, "Do you, Martin Ellingham, take this woman…"

I turned my head away from Louisa's face to look at the minister. Did I? _Take_ this woman? Take? That had to be a loaded word. Take. Did I _take_ her? Where was I taking her? Away? No. Was I carrying her from Port Wenn? Not likely. Was I leading her away?

My neck turned my face back to Louisa's glowing face. She licked her lips, but I saw a hint of concern in her eyes. I'm certain she was thinking, wondering - no remembering - the previous time we tried to do this. A total disaster that day; utterly and completely.

She had given her floral bouquet to Holly; Holly of the mangled spinal column and the extreme reaction to morphine. Holly, who if not had got injured that day, Fate may have led Louisa and me to take another path. The path we had ended on was rocky enough and painful and torturous. Yet here we stood. Together. She wore her white dress, recycled from last fall. I was in my best suit, the very one which the cleaner had lost then found and returned at a critical moment.

Holly looked at me and I saw her lips move. "Go on," she said silently. "Martin. Go on. "

Just then Chris Parsons cleared his throat. He was standing at my elbow - my best man - being nearby to support if not corral one semi-wayward GP and keep him at the altar. "Mart?" I heard his stage whisper. "Now! Say yes?"

Louisa and I were holding one another's left hands, our rights clasped together, ready to transfer the wedding rings.

"To have and to hold…" Mr. Webb, the minister of the Chapel By The Sea, said. "From this day forward…" the man rattled on in the usual ritual.

Webb was ever so much more sensible than most vicars, at least those in West Cornwall. He wasn't mad like Porter of the pigs, he wasn't a drinker to excess like the other, who'd fallen and broken his hip. Mr. Webb had this afternoon available for the ceremony after a funeral was postponed, apropos of mine and Louisa's entire affair. How does one postpone a funeral and why? Port Wenn magic Mark Mylow had called it. It kept a park ranger with PTSD functional, mostly, and had brought Louisa to me and me to her. And now because delivery of a coffin had been delayed this ceremony could be held.

I realized that Webb and now stopped speaking and all eyes were on me. The assembly, mostly teachers, a few merchants, the Fenns, Penhale and Maggie, Parsons and his wife Diana, even Bert and Al Large were waiting. I heard a nervous giggle start up from Pauline Lamb which was echoed by Morwenna Newcross.

They were waiting – waiting for me to speak. The behavioral psychologist who had counseled me in my battle against haemophobia had tried to teach me to center my feelings, keep a level head, and breathe slowly and carefully. I did that for a few breaths and was ready to speak.

Then I heard Aunt Ruth, who was holding James Henry attired in a snappy tiny suit which Louisa had driven hither and yon to find. "Come on Martin!" Ruth yelled. "Get a bloody move on!"

That broke the ice. I looked very carefully at Louisa and the look in her eyes gave me strength. My "_I do_," came out full and strong. It was no more difficult than cutting into a living body.

Any further comments from Mr. Webb were drowned out by a cheer that erupted from twenty throats. The minister laughed and bade everyone to calm down. "Take it easy! That's one! Now let's get the other one!"

More laughter.

We had already spoken our wedding vows, simple ones, from the book of services Webb had put before us three days before. The whirlwind of that week had made our heads spin, when we realized that we should, no wrong word, _needed_ to be married. Mr. Webb had nodded cheerfully when we picked out simple ones. "Good, good!" his ruddy face beamed at us. "So many couples pick these confounded and convoluted things that go on and on. Best to keep it simple, right?"

Louisa had given me a cautious look then answered. "Right."

Now here we were in front of friends, mostly Louisa's, as I had few. Most of my friends, medical acquaintances actually, were far away and given the circumstances were extremely unlikely to come to this back of beyond.

I held Louisa's hand while she listened to the recitation of the ritual, leading up to her part. Then without a stutter or stammer, her soft voice came out. "I do."

This time, the crowd uttered "Awww!" but for Bert who yelled out, "You cost me a tenner, Doc!"

I grinned at the plumber turned restaurateur who was the epicenter of a lot of the betting in the village. I saw Al lightly punch his dad on the shoulder, but Pauline nearly slapped the fat man.

Louisa laughed aloud as things died down, as the wedding went on to its inevitable conclusion.

But through it all the words which Louisa had spoken when making her vow to me; that was my Waterloo.

"Martin," she had said softly and sweetly, "I love you. I want to spend my life with you. And every day I will be thankful and happy that you are in my life."

Happy. She said _happy_.

The rings were exchanged and I felt so happy to see that gold band and diamond go onto the fourth finger of her left hand.

She slid the platinum band onto my left hand, the skin liberally lubricated by perspiration. She struggled slightly until the band slid into place.

Finally after three minute message from the vicar it was done. He turned us about, our right hands tightly clasped. "Now it is my extreme pleasure to introduce to you Doctor Martin Ellingham and Mrs. Louisa Glasson Ellingham!"

We kissed and in that blissful moment I knew I was wrong. So, so mistaken. My friends weren't in London. From the smiling cheering faces in the ancient church, I knew my friends were here – here in Port Wenn.

000

I started, coming awake. Was it a dream? I was seated on the small sofa in the bungalow at the Gran Blanco Resort on the coast of Spain. I was shirtless, wearing a blue swim suit, and the bungalow was quiet and empty.

"Louisa!" I called. Only my voice echoed through the place. My eyes fell to a note on resort stationary lying on the sofa next to me. It read:

_Dear Martin,_

_Since you were napping so soundly I've gone_

_over to the main building to have a manicure_

_and pedicure_

_Should be back about 4-ish._

_Love,_

_Louisa_

The note ended with a loopy looking large heart.

"Ah," I recalled. "Not a dream. It was a memory! Thank God!" And I felt a large smile plaster itself across my face.

Just then my mobile rang. "Ellingham?" I answered.

"Doctor Ellingham?" a slightly timid sounding voice answered mine. "This is Liz Bell, your locum."

"Why have you called me, Dr. Bell?"

A heavy sigh came through the tiny speaker. "What is wrong with the bloody people in this village? They get sick and they don't take the medications I have prescribed, they follow the fishmonger's advice before mine about their medical problems, and they persist in eating all the wrong foods! Are they all mad? I am so sorry to call and complain to you like this on your honeymoon trip, but they're all… all… totally and utterly barking!"

"Bodmin."

"What's that? What did you say?" the young Dr. Bell asked me.

"Bodmin is the local word. Means mad."

"Oh! Yeah, I keep hearing that a lot! Bodmin! That's the word I keep hearing!"

I sighed. "I doubt you have called me for a lesson in Cornish language and customs. Why have you called?"

"It's Bert Large. His blood pressure is absolutely through the roof! And the man will not stray off the feed."

"Is he back on his beta-blockers and the cholesterol medication?"

"Grudgingly. Infuriating, though. I've seen other patients like him – obstinate, forgetfull – all the same! A nice man but he is so… so…"

"Thick? Stupid. Obtuse?" I sneered.

She sighed again. "Those as well. What can I do? You must have figured out a way to get on with these village folk? Haven't you? From the way some of them act you'd think they were living in the Dark Ages!"

The door opened behind me and my bride returned. I nodded as she gave me a smile as she brandished newly polished fingernails and toenails visible in open-toed footgear. "Welcome to my world," I quipped then rung off.


	34. Chapter 34

Chapter 34 - Proper

"Who was that?" Louisa asked.

"My locum."

"What did they want?"

"She wished to complain about my patients."

"Oh." Louisa's eyes dropped. "Never did you any good did it? I mean, Portwenn is a bit… odd…"

I set the mobile on the table. "You got your nails done."

"Yes! Aren't they nice?" Louisa waggled her fingers at me and held out a foot. "Like the color?"

"You don't usually wear nail polish."

Louisa held out her hand and admired her fingers. "I just thought I'd throw caution to the winds for this once. I quite like the color."

I peered at her nails slightly shocked at what I saw.

"The color almost matches my lipstick. The manicure girl, a sweet young thing from Egypt, said it's called Aphrodite's Pink Nightie," she said proudly.

"They're pink."

Louisa stared at me. "They are, yes."

I bit my tongue as I wondered what possess womankind to decorate their bodies in this way. Louisa was smiling at me though displaying her fingers. "And shiny." At least she hadn't decided to get a tattoo which I found distasteful.

"Yes, they are. A good topcoat of gloss." She cleared her throat. "Do you wish to go to the beach? We haven't been since… we… uhm… had to save that boy."

"We can if you want to."

"Ok." She bit her lip. "Which suit should I wear?"

Now I was between the devil and the deep blue sea, or worse, since she owned three swim suits.

"There's the flowered one, the one with palm frond pattern, and the… uhm…" there went her lip again, "the… bikini," she asked.

I enjoyed seeing her wear each of them, but the bikini showed quite a lot of her skin, which was glorious but it invited stares from other men. That I did not like. Just seeing Mylow give her a hard stare in the polka dot affair had made me dismayed. I chose the smallest part of valor in answering her. "Whichever one you wish."

"I thought maybe the flowered one?"

I nodded, as that was likely the one which exposed her bare body the least. "All right." Not that I didn't like the others, especially the two-piece but… still. I felt awkward discussing bathing suits with her, which was odd. The same went for lingerie and nightgowns – anything that hinted of sexual attraction.

She grinned. "It matches my nails the best, I think." She waltzed over, kissed me on the lips and went into the bathroom.

Louisa there are times I do not understand you one bit. But there are other times I find you delightful. Now that kiss, for instance. What did I say or do warrant to that kiss? Based on my _vast_ (sarcasm, Martin?) experience of romantic moments with women, there are stretches that romance seems to be in the air and I am fully able to participate and reciprocate and other times I am totally at sea. At the moment I was adrift.

Louisa came out dressed as I was puzzling over this paradox. I was twisting the wedding ring on my left hand when the bathroom door opened.

"Ring too tight?" she asked. She held up her left hand. "Mine fits perfectly."

"No, no. the ring is fine."

"Something wrong then?"

I sighed. "I wasn't very professional to Dr. Bell was I?"

She shook her head. "Sadly no. You weren't. And not very civil either."

I reached out and took her in my arms, and since I was seated on the bed, she towered over me; one of the rare times that was true. "I… can be… rude, I know. Don't mean to be. Not always."

Louisa toyed with my hair. "Not very courteous either." She bent and kissed my ear. "Now why are you like that at some times and not others? Hmmm?" Her lips strayed down to my bare shoulder as her hands ran down my spine. "Hmmmm." Her tone had changed. "You're not _always_ rude either, now are you?" Her voice now cooed with a distinct purr to it.

"I should ring her back. I really should."

Her cool skin brushed against mine as she whispered, "Right now?" She dropped to her knees and looked me straight in the face. "You could call her _later_, couldn't you?" One hand had risen to the back of my neck as she pressed against me. "Right?"

"Perhaps I should call her. For instance, what if we… erh… wished to go on other holidays? What if my manner puts off so many locums that I can't leave the surgery? What then?"

"Call her after dinner time. The surgery will be closed then," she said as she hugged me fiercely.

"No. I'll call now." My hand reached towards the table by the bed, the mobile inches away from my grasp.

A slim hand dipped toward my waistband and toyed with it.

"Louisa… stop…"

Her hand withdrew. "Damn it Martin. Why do you have to get so bloody proper with a woman you've never met when…" I saw her bite her lip, her face looking sad, "I'm right here?"

I saw her lips quiver and a single tear fell from her right eye.

"Oh… I…" I said, seeing how fragile she could be at times. "I…"

"Hell! Just call her." Her arms fell slack and made as if to stand, trying to shove herself away.

My hand retracted from the mobile and took her hand as she tried to turn away. "Louisa, I didn't mean to push you away." Her hand was cool, but the fingers fell limply in mine, and if there was ever a body language that said disappointment, it was spelled out in the lifeless hold of her fingers in mine.

She brushed at her cheek and I saw tears brimming in her eyes. "S'all right," she whispered.

I sighed and drew her close, as close as her slightly standoffish stance would allow. I kissed her cheek. "I… am… so very… sorry Louisa. If I have…"

She breathed deep and came fully into my arms. "Martin," she whispered. "I just… we never… get to be…"

I nodded my head. "Spontaneous."

Her head went up and down.

"And I fell asleep on the sofa."

"Yes. You did." She mumbled. "But you were tired." She relaxed slightly as I rubbed her back.

"I apologize," I mumbled.

Cool teacher's arms circled me again. "Well, do you want to go to the beach… or…?"

"We could stay here? Would you like that?" I asked.

Louisa smiled at me. "Just do…" she kissed me.

I broke the kiss for air. "The proper thing?"

We did.

**Author's notes:**

**Aphrodite's Pink Nightie is an actual nail polish made by OPI.**


	35. Chapter 35

Chapter 35 – Need

Louisa rolled over and kissed me. "Thank you," she said throwing her arm around me. "I needed you."

I knew better than to ask for what, but held her close, the feel of her blotting out the rest of the world. Her fingers moved absently over my spine and I felt myself drifting, my thoughts going far away and long ago.

Chris Parsons was speaking on the phone to me. "Mart! Fabulous! How long has it been?"

"Very," I snapped feeling the fool as I didn't want to make this call. I had dithered for weeks until I made this call. I didn't have to of course, but Chris Parsons and I were in medical school together. And he was the closest person to what some people called friends.

"So, Mart, I suspect that was the extent of the pleasantries, such as they are… how can I help you?"

I opened my mouth to speak but no words emerged.

"Mart? You still there?"

I sighed. "I'm here."

"So to what do I owe the honor of this call? I'll bet you're up to your waist in really juicy surgical cases! Or things are really slow this afternoon. Where are you?"

"In London."

"Ah." Chris paused for a few seconds. "Martin, please tell me why you've called. Sort of busy here."

The debacle of the last nine months flashed before my eyes. My collapse, the aftermath, my near sacking by the hospital, and then the tedium of re-training all trotted themselves out before me like strange trophies of some very odd hunting trip. "Chris, I need…"

"Need? The great Dr. Martin Ellingham needs something from me? I'm dashed as to what it might be."

How much do I say? How much should I tell him? "I've decided… to…" my head swam and the static in the earpiece made my head hurt.

"To… what exactly?" He waited for more time. "To do what, Martin?"

"To leave surgery," I blurted out.

"Leave surgery? You mean today, or this week?" Chris must have been thinking very hard by now and must know that something was not quite right.

"Permanently." I'd said it – the horrible truth.

"Really?" Chris's voice was dripping with disbelief. "Martin, I really have no idea how I could help out. Just a minute. No! You don't mean the, uhm…"

I finished his sentence. "Yes, the position in Portwenn."

"Portwenn? Oh, yes Jim Simm being dead we do need someone out there. You ever meet Dr. Simm?"

"Not really," I lied as I had met him once, for four stitches in my thumb after I cut it on wire fence at Auntie Joan's farm. I must have been about ten, and that would be almost thirty years back.

"Well he's dead. In his sleep." I heard Chris sigh. "I can't say that he was the best in the PCT, but he could care for the villagers. Not much happens out there." He then laughed. "But you've been there, you know that."

I stared at the mobile, holding it at arm's length after this latest bit of wisdom. I brought the mobile back to my face. "I had heard that."

"That Simm is dead. Pity that. He had such good rapport with his patients."

"Ah." I waited for more from Chris.

"Have you actually applied? For the GP spot, I mean."

"I was about to."

"There is a review board, of course. We've been going through the applicants. I can't say that there are that many that actually want to practice medicine in West Cornwall. But Portwenn doesn't need a surgeon, Mart! Wadebridge Hospital is close enough and they have a surgical staff."

"I know that."

When next Parsons spoke his voice sounded strange. "You're saying you want to work as a GP, a General Practitioner? That does sound odd, Mart, knowing what a great surgeon you are. Wouldn't that be a waste of your time? Your talents? I can't exactly see how that would satisfy you in the slightest!"

"None the less, that's what I want to do," I corrected myself, "to uhm… to be. To be a GP. And I have retrained."

"Oh, Lord. You do mean it."

"I… have decided to leave surgery, Chris. I must. I'm applying for the GP spot in Portwenn."

And with those words I sealed my fate. I do not think that God, the one I grew up with, is necessarily vindictive. But if had listened carefully, I might have heard the laughter of the gods – the ancient Greek gods – the ones who toyed with mere mortals.

For what were the odds that a certain teacher would be returning to her home on the very flight that I was taking south along the Cornwall coast? And further, what are the even smaller odds that she was on the PCT review board? And despite all the tiny and miniscule chances, that she and I would be here, at this moment, luxuriating in one another's arms? Together? The gods did laugh, but this time in glee.

Louisa nuzzled my ear. "Did you say something?" she asked drowsily.

"No," I told her softly. "Nothing at all." I kissed her soft hair.

"Anything you need then Doctor?" She smiled up me from a few inches away from my face.

I took a deep breath, smelling her perfume, perspiration, and the smell of sex. The unequalled feel of warm human skin, lay under my hands, against my chest and arms, and my legs. I kissed her forehead. "I am in need of nothing."


	36. Chapter 36

Chapter 36 – Promise

I was dozing once more when Louisa propped herself up on her elbow. "Martin?"

"Yes?" I opened my eyes and saw Louisa grinning at me. The afternoon sun slanted through the blinds. A nimbus of light surrounded her hair, slightly tangled from our love making.

"When we were on the plane, what were you thinking?"

"I was thinking how bothersome it was to be crowded into coach."

"Wrong airplane. The _other_ one."

"The other? You mean…"

"The trip down to Cornwall. The first time we saw each other."

"Oh." I had no idea why she was asking about it. "That was a long time ago."

"I know." She drew circles on the sheet between us. "I recall you peering at me over your newspaper."

"I was, yes."

"What did you see?"

"I, uhm, well, I saw you Louisa."

"That's not what I'm asking, Martin." She rubbed my arm.

I sighed. "I was staring at your eye."

She chuckled. "But that's not why you looked the first time, was it?"

"Louisa, I generally look at fellow passengers on a plane or train." I mumbled. "Why bring this up?"

"I do recall a very tall handsome man, his gray suit perfect, shiny black shoes and not a hair out of place."

I looked at her, her mouth and eyes smiling. "I try to stay well groomed."

She squirmed across the distance between us. A slender hand rose and rumpled my hair, then smoothed it. "I like that. I do. Really, really do, like that."

"Wouldn't do for a doctor to look untidy."

"I was flying back for the meeting. I'd been up in Wales at a teaching conference over the weekend. Chris had set up the meeting for that Monday, knowing I'd be coming back then." She put her hand on my face. "I'd no idea what I was in for."

"Hm. I do recall you were less than happy with my scrutiny."

She laughed. "Martin, when I sew a strange man peering at me with such interest, it's sometimes due to…"

"What?"

She sighed. "Must I spell everything out for you?" She patted my cheek. "Suppose I do. I thought you were checking me out, specifically my bust line. I haven't worn that sweater set since. It was a bit low in the front."

"That's not what I was doing, Louisa."

"Oh, I don't know, you were looking _very_ hard. And it was a lovely pink."

"I never!"

"You were. You did." She nodded. "I remember that distinctly."

"You wore a sort of kerchief thing around your throat, I remember that."

"I did, didn't I?" She laughed. "I was pretty savage with you, wasn't I?"

"I do remember you telling me that _I had problems_."

Louisa chuckled again. Her other hand found mine and held it. "Don't we all?" she sighed. "I can't believe that my mum just waltzed back into my life for a few weeks, then tossed me over with a _bam_, and off to Spain."

I nodded. "Did you really want you mother to stay in Portwenn?"

Louisa looked away. "No. You saw how she can be."

"Manipulative and self centered. Like my vile parents," I sneered.

"You know, my dad had to put up with an awful lot when she was around. I hate to say it but we were better off after mum left." She sighed. "At least there was a lot less yelling."

"And Terry didn't try to get her back?" This was territory that was dangerous yet I pressed on. "How was he able to do it, all alone?"

Louisa rolled onto her back and draped her forearm over her face. "No, he didn't. Dad would tell me that we were _fine_, just the two of us. And we were, as long as the money held out." She exhaled. "I guess I was going to do what _he_ did – be a single parent."

I heard a sniffle or two as that came out of her mouth so I turned towards her and rubbed her arm. "You don't have to be. Not now."

She turned her head. "My dad – he tried really, really hard - and I know that he…" she gulped, "did things he shouldn't have."

I clumsily squeezed her hand and her fingers clutched mine like she was drowning.

Louisa didn't speak for some time as I absently rubbed her shoulder. Then she said, "We're damaged goods, aren't we?"

"No! Not true," I replied but her words echoed what I felt sometimes. Well, perhaps more often than not.

Louisa rolled onto her side and faced me again. "You have to promise me that we won't do to James what our parents did to us."

I sighed and blew air out slowly. "I think we're better than that. Don't you?"

Louisa wrapped herself about me and we didn't say anything for quite a while.


	37. Chapter 37

Chapter 37 – About a Suit

Louisa stepped from the shower. "We're going to the beach, right?"

I eyed her warily, as I thought we'd have dinner. My watch lay on the bathroom counter which showed it was nearly half five. "If you wish, but you know I don't like to eat too late."

She flicked her towel at me and I dodged. "You ate lunch at two!" She tousled my hair. "Or have you forgotten?"

"No, only…"

"Come on, Martin!" she growled. "Or are you going to be a stick in the mud?" She wrapped the bath towel about herself and rubbed her wet locks with a hand towel. "If I'd known you were so… _ugh_… I'd never have married you!"

I whirled on her the mirror showing me the hurt expression on my face. "You know how I am, Louisa. You know what I'm like. Are you saying that…" I bristled at her, "we made a mistake?"

She buried her face in the towel and then burst out laughing. "Oh, my God, Martin! You should see your face! Poor thing." She kissed my neck. "Just teasing." She then hugged me which was some compensation for her jibe.

"Oh," I said but I really didn't know quite what to say.

"Sorry, Martin. I am. Truly am." She looked up at me, her eyes some eight inches below mine, the top of her lovely head barely coming up to my mouth. "Suppose you're still not very keen on teasing."

Oh the stories I could tell her about teasing and bullying! I cocked my head and let the moment pass.

Louisa got the message to let it go and picked up her bikini which was draped over the towel rack. "I'll wear this one, again. It's plenty dry now."

My heart fell. "I thought you'd wear the flowered one." As much as I liked the suit…

"Changed my mind," she said then slapped me on the backside and left the room. "Besides," she called out, "I saw you giving me the once over. Thank you, for that."

"Oh…" was all that came out.

I had taken a quick shower before her and was halfway through shaving when she flounced into the shower. She hummed to herself as she showed and continued humming away as she now dressed and brushed out her hair. "Besides," she called out, "I made arrangements for a special dinner."

"Where?"

"Secret. You'll like it."

I peered around the doorframe. "A secret."

"And I stuck my head out the window for a moment. It's cooling off nicely. Bit of a breeze." She started to put blusher on her cheeks.

Why women wore makeup to the beach was beyond me. "You stuck your head… outside? When you were…"

"No, silly! I wrapped in a blanket!"

"Oh." I finished with the razor, as I didn't like stubble, not the least of which was it looked messy and I knew the effect that short whiskers can have on female facial skin and other places. And considering… I cleared my throat.

Louisa came back in, draped her towels on the rack, and hugged me from behind as I splashed on aftershave, a very bland scent.

She sniffed the air. "I was wondering if you wanted some different aftershave. I mean what you use is fine, but it doesn't have much of a scent. Would you like me to pick out something else?" She looked up at me almost pleadingly.

She was changing me and somehow that was just fine. "If you wish, just…"

"Just?"

"Not too aromatic."

"All right Martin, bland and boring, just your style!"

I swung around. "Do I bore you? That it?" She might have been still teasing, but I was serious.

She hung her head for a moment. "Do you recall when I was lugging a surfboard up to the school and dropped the wetsuit?"

"Something about surf club, that it?" I had a vague recollection of the encounter.

"I put my foot in it then, didn't I? Said something about how I'd like to see you out of that suit… I meant in a wet suit! Course you were in a suit. I'm afraid I really did embarrass myself, didn't I?"

I looked down at myself wearing my swimsuit and a vest - one of those she bought here - and my gaze traveled up that long body of hers, now arrayed in the black and white polka dot bikini. There were faint stretch marks on her abdomen from the pregnancy. All because of me – us – being together – that gave life to a little human being back home, home in Portwenn. Which definitely happen _after_ I got out of my suit.

I was stuffy and I knew it. I was bland and boring – no personality at all – and rude besides. No small talk at all came from me. And shy, Lord I was shy. Yet by being with Louisa and now married to her, I knew I was changing, and so was she.

"Louisa, I think you got you wish," I told her.

"What's that? What wish was this?"

"About the suit, uhm, seeing me… out of the suit. The suit coat and pants."

Her mouth fell open then she smiled after looking away then back. "Guess I should be careful what I wish for, right?" Her left hand took my left and she turned it this way and that so the bright lights of the bath made our rings sparkle. "I'm glad, aren't you?"

I could only nod as a giant lump rose to my throat.

Before I could answer, she took my hand and guided me to the door. "Get your sandals." She scooped up her bag. "Come on, beach time!" She pulled her white cover-up over her shoulders and plopped a floppy hat on her head. "Ready now?"

"Yeah," I told her. "Come what may."

She took my elbow and we left the bungalow.


	38. Chapter 38

Chapter 38 – Life

The beach was nearly deserted, just a few people on the sand, and only two or three in the water. Several surfers were leaving the beach as we got there. Louisa plopped our gear on two lounges, slipped off her sandals and cover up and gave me an expectant look. "What?"

"Aren't you coming into the sea with me?"

"I… uhm… would rather read."

"Another stuffy journal?" She took my hand. "Come on, Martin! Live a little."

Wasn't my heart beating, my brain firing away, and my lungs pumping? And as for living, hadn't we exercised our marital rights this very afternoon? I suppose she would think of me as a stick in the mud sort and old fogy and in many ways Louisa was not far wrong. With a faint shudder I lowered the journal, took off my vest and allowed her to tow me into the water.

To my amazement the water was enjoyable, in that it was warm, the waves were not too rough, and the periodic nature of the swells was soothing. I followed her into the waves, feeling with my feet as the bottom rose and fell in the inter-tidal zone. The wind was from the land and I supposed that flattened the waves to some extent. I felt a moment of concern when the bottom disappeared from sight, between stirred up sand the sun shining me full in the face.

"Isn't this nice?" Louisa asked as she swam around me. "One thing about Spain I do like is the warm ocean. Can't do this at home, at least without a wet suit or freezing to death."

We were now chest deep with the waves breaking gently on the shore, rising and falling a foot or more on us they rushed landward. "At least I haven't seen too many cases of hypothermia back in Portwenn. A few fishermen of course, as the surfers know better." That made me think. "You could surf, if you wanted, that is. They do rent boards here."

"Oh, I don't know," she said stopping and putting her feet on the sandy bottom. "Just got my nails done."

"You could do it tomorrow. Plenty of time yet."

Louisa threw arms around me and hugged me. "Would you like to try, surfing I mean? I do like it."

"No," I sneered. "I'd probably make a mess of it. But don't let me stop you." I touched her cheek tenderly. "Louisa… you might think that I'm going to hold you back… no need for you to miss out on things you want to do. Go on. Don't let me hold you back."

"Well I could. Not much fun for you to just watch." She bit on her lip. "Wouldn't want you to miss out."

"I'm perfectly fine. You go and…" I waved at the beach.

"I'll think about it."

"Alright."

She reluctantly released me. "Now how about a swim? Race you!" Kicking furiously she left me behind and only after nearly a minute was I able to catch up. She moved like a seal in the water, and my thick body had a hard time to catch up. I enjoyed swimming, but the intermittent waves slowed my progress as I chased my wife.

"Come on slow poke!" she yelled over her shoulder and only when she started to tread water did I catch her. She bobbed slightly in the water. "I can almost touch here," she blubbered as water washed over her face.

"Here," I held out a hand which she took.

"Thanks." She spat water then pulled herself to me. "Having fun? Feeling alive?"

There was a show on the telly which Louisa watched occasionally. Some sort of science fiction story, I've never watched enough to really get the thread, and she always remarked about one character. This person was a sort of computer hologram, balding and not tall, with a crude robotic manner. He would pop into existence in the spaceship's surgery and severely state "Please state the nature of the medical emergency." This robotic doctor was only a simulation of a human being and not a very good one at that as shown by his stiff words and actions.

Feeling alive? Was I feeling alive, she asked. Her flashing eyes and smile were right before me, waiting for an answer. The water lifted us up, bouncing my feet on the sandy ripples below, Louisa floating beside me like an errant buoy and she was still waiting for an answer. "Let's swim back."

"Right," she said gloomily.

000

After watching the sun slide down the sky and reading for a time, Louisa yawned and dug out her mobile. "Getting late. We should go change for dinner."

"So where are we going?"

She smiled. "It's here. In the resort."

"Oh."

"It comes highly recommended."

"By who?"

"Mylow."

My heart sank. "Oh."

She touched my arm. "I asked around. It will be…"

"Fine," I said, not quiet feeling it.

We showered the sea salt away in the showers at the pool, took a few quick laps in the pool itself and traipsed to the bungalow where we changed. Louisa quickly dried her long hair with towel and electric drier, brushed on makeup, touched up her eyelashes, and after pouring herself into a luscious looking mauve dress declared herself ready.

I was holding a tie in hand, when she blurted out. "No. No tie."

"But…"

"You don't need one. It's casual. No suit coat either."

"Oh," I sneered slightly. "Not used to…"

"And," she bent and drew out the white, beige, and blue short-sleeve shirt she'd bought me that day. "Put this on."

I gave a look of utter confusion.

"For me? Please Martin?"

I was learning that Louisa could be pleased by simple things, and if the least of them was changing my shirt, I should do it. Although years of wearing a full suit and it made me feel quite… strange to be wearing something else. She watched as I settled the new shirt after pulling it over my head and the soft material felt strange.

"I do like that." Louisa looked at me as I combed my hair. "Suits you."

I nodded, splashed on my too-bland aftershave and followed my bride out the door.

000

"Well, this is nice!" Louisa's West Country accent came out with delight.

Louisa sat at my side, not quite opposite me at a small round table. There were a line of marquees set up, facing the ocean, and we were seating in one of those. Small wrought iron tables and chairs were in each one and it reminded me of Large's Restaurant. But these chairs were clean and padded and the linen tablecloth was very white, making a contrast with the orange sunset.

"Rather like Bert's, don't you agree?" Louisa added. "Not as many raucous seagulls, though." A waitress approached, lit three small candles on the table, poured out ice water and delivered a bread basket. "Gracias," she told the woman.

The girl nodded and giving us menus left.

"No," I said surveying the items. "I'm certain Bert would not serve couscous or palm hearts." The menus given us were in English, but I could have struggled through Spanish if needed. Knowing Latin would help immensely – not for a conversation, of course.

Louisa sighed. "No. No couscous." She sighed and looked to sea. Her hand took mine. "I was thinking…"

She was interrupted by the wine steward who started to expound on the merits of several wines, local and imported, in a strange English, heavily accented by German. "By the bottle or glass."

Louisa's eyes flicked to me. "I would like a nice white, if you have it. The local would be fine."

"I'll have the same," I told the man and I thought Louisa was going to fall from her chair in surprise.

"You're drinking wine?" Louisa seemed to be aghast.

I nodded and the man went away.

Louisa's eyes were wide. "You don't really drink."

"If my liver enzymes are exposed to more alcohol, then I may be better able to process them."

"So…" her eyes twinkled, "You going to turn into a night clubber? That it?"

"Doubt it. Not like we have that many opportunities in Portwenn do we? And there's James…"

Louisa sighed. "I do miss him, but I will miss this place." She cleared her throat. "Or at least the company…"

I was still shy in relating with my wife and our changed status. Louisa's passionate advances… nice as they are… had certainly been unleashed by this trip, especially as we were both not working and had no infant to care for. "I have tried…"

I was interrupted by the waiter. "Senor, senora?"

Louisa took the menu from my hand. "We'll both have the special item I saw on the board. And the salads."

"Ah," I had seen the signboard at the host's table but didn't read it. "I didn't…"

Louisa took my hand. "I'm sure you'll love it."

The waitress left and I was mystified. "What are we having?"

"You'll see. Trust me."

Trust was a tricky word. Did I trust her and did Louisa trust me? "Alright."

The wine came and I tasted it and was pleased that it had a nice aroma and finish.

"Not too much, Martin." Louisa chuckled. "I'm not strong enough to haul you back to the bungalow by myself."

"Right." Holding hands we watched the sun sink lower and our marquee, open on three sides, took on the orange glow.

After some quiet minutes, I inhaled deeply and spoke. "Your telly show."

"Which one?"

"The space travel thing…"

"Oh. Yeah? What about it."

"The… uhm… the doctor… character."

"Oh? Right. The E.M.H." She spelled out the last three letters.

"EMH?"

"Emergency Medical Hologram." She chuckled once more. "Sorry."

"I notice that when I have seen you watch that show and that one is doing whatever it is that he does…"

"Martin. What a moment. Are you saying that…" she stopped with raised eyebrow.

I gulped. "Do my patients see me that way, do you think? Robotic?"

"He's not a robot, Martin. He's an emergency medical… oh, you don't really care, do you?"

I ignored her question. "Whatever." I sipped at the ice water. "Do you think it might enhance my medical interactions with my patients if I acted… ahem… less like that?"

"Whatcha' mean?" she asked cautiously. "Less like what?"

"Less… more…" I waved my hand, "personable." It hurt me to say it but I did anyway.

"Medical interactions," she said slowly. "Maybe." She smiled slightly but it looked strained.

Silence lasted until the salads came and they appeared to be a small seafood salad, adorned with anchovies, a small octopus, and capers.

Louisa poked at it. "Martin, is that what I think it is?"

"It's not one of your space aliens. It's an octopus – a baby."

She lifted it with her fork and shoved it aside. To show her it was edible, I sliced off a portion and ate it. Louisa shuddered at me. "No thank you," she whispered nibbling on the lettuce.

"Quite good. Full of iodine." I patted my mouth.

That made her laugh. "Good old Martin." We ate our salads, Louisa more nibbling than eating. "I asked you a question earlier, and you didn't answer me."

"Oh. Which one was it exactly?"

She sighed. "I asked if you were having fun."

Fun. Another hard word. Fun. Was I having fun? Enjoying life? Or was I a simulacra like the hologram on the telly, someone who was merely imitating the actions of living creatures? I recalled the times that Aunt Joan or even Ruth had admonished me to have some fun. If this wasn't fun, then what was? Louisa sat there waiting for the bombshell. "Yes, Louisa. I am. Are you?"

"Oh, Martin!" She half rose and kissed me, pressing her hands on my new shirt, and I quickly looked about to see if anyone was watching, but the coast was clear. I touched her hair, her cheek, and her lips. "You do mean it?"

"I wouldn't say if I didn't mean it. I trust you know that."

She sat back clearly moved. "Well." If I could bottle that smile it would light up the darkest day, or mood. "I… do. I wanted…"

The salads were whisked away at the moment and further verbal exposes were disturbed. Our water glasses were refilled and after the waitress left, Louisa looked at the sun, now at the rim of the world. "Martin, I don't know quite how to say this."

"Ahem, just say it." I lifted my water glass to my mouth.

"A long time ago I was speaking to Bert."

I groaned. "What nonsense was that about? The man was a terrible plumber and is an awful restaurant owner. He's quite a fount of knowledge that one."

Louisa ducked her head and sighed. "Yes, but he is a friend, at least I think of him that way. Anyway, he once asked me if I wanted children. And I told him that I _did_ want kids. _Lots_ of them. When I found the right man…"

My epiglottis didn't work properly for a few seconds and the air grew warm.

Her eyes were wide open now and her posture spoke volumes. "We're not getting any younger and my clock is ticking so… Martin, James is still quite young and I know that these things take time." She cleared her throat. "But… I want to have more children. At least one and maybe more." She grasped my knee under the table and I felt the tension transmitted down her trembling arm. "Since you're the _right_ man… would you, uhm… can you… I mean… if you want to… God this is hard… help me? Please?"


	39. Chapter 39

Chapter 39 – Green Flash

I almost expected this… request, or plea, or demand. James Henry was barely four months old, and our history together as a couple, forget the married part as a less than two weeks doesn't actually count. More children, she said, or extra children. A breeze blew the fabric of the marquee about, slightly flapping in the fitful wind, and a loose piece snapped and tugged at its tether like an angry dog worrying to be free. The air was warm still holding the day's heat and the orange sun sank lower and lower towards the Mediterranean Sea, with no cloud in sight to obscure it. Air coursed in and out of my lungs as I smelled salt sea air, the perfume Louisa wore, the warm wax from the three candles on the table, my aftershave and the smell of perspiration dribbling from my armpits.

Louisa held her anxious pose while I was frozen from concern and apprehension, _oh call it fear, Martin! _sounded a voice in my head.

The clock was ticking, ticking down, and if I waited too long to speak she'd take it as a decidedly negative response, even if I said nothing.

I took in air, though my chest felt tight and throat dry. I lowered my glass of water, now so slippery from condensation and my own sweaty fear that I almost dropped it. My head cocked toward her slightly. "A child, a baby."

"Well that's how they start, Martin, as babies." Her hand went to her mouth and her tongue flicked out nervously. "So… what… do you think? If you say _no_… I'd understand, you being an only child, like me in that way, aren't you?" She looked to sea at the sun, now just kissing the water. "If you don't want to…" she sniffed, "I would understand." She bit her lip in nervousness, a sign I knew too well.

"It's a big decision," I said at last.

"Yeah." She sighed. "I know. At least we can decide these sorts of things, nowadays, usually… unlike…"

"When we, ahm, conceived, James." I felt a headache start to pierce my head, right behind my left eye.

"Yeah. Been thinking about that. We didn't exactly decide with him, now did we?" she whispered. "Just happened."

The waitress suddenly appeared bearing two platters, which she proudly set before us. "Entrée," she said proudly using French rather than her native Spanish. "Enjoy."

I looked down at a langoustine, along with leeks, tomatoes, lentils, a few mussels and a grilled fish fillet. "Looks…"

Louisa exhaled. "I suppose we should eat."

"Quite nice," I finished my sentence.

Louisa took her left hand off my knee and picked up her knife, "How do I?" she poked at the boiled miniature lobster-like crustacean, which were more delicious than lobsters, I thought.

"Cut down through the carapace, the ahm, back shell, like this." I demonstrated. "Then you can pull out the tail meat."

"Oh." She went to work and started to eat. "Gosh! This is good - really, really good."

The mussels had been steamed and the whole had been tossed with olive oil, garlic and pepper. They were very tasty. "This is a bonito steak, I believe, rather like mackerel." I pointed to the fillet.

"Mark told me to order the special. He vouched for it." She put some of the bonito into her mouth. "This is good. I'm glad I trusted him."

We ate and drank for some time, each of us avoiding the elephant in the room – the question that Louisa had voiced so pleadingly – would you have another child with me?

Finally with half of our entrees gone, I spoke about it, but could not meet her eyes. "Louisa, I expected that you… ahem… would want to… talk about… children. Having more or… another," I stammered.

"Martin, if you don't want to, let it go. I shouldn't have asked."

"What?"

"You likely think that I might be trying to tighten my grip on you…" then her frightened face looked at mine, "but, I do wish that we had a chance to pick when we had children. James Henry was a surprise of course…" her voiced fell, "a huge surprise."

I took her hand. "Louisa, I want to say…"

Her voice flared then. "No Martin! That's enough! If you don't want to say so! Don't beat around the bush! We'll be perfectly happy with just one child, our son. I'm satisfied if you are!" Then she put her face in her hands, elbows on the table. "I think I need more wine."

I looked to the side and caught the eye of the German wine steward. The man came hustling over. "My wife would like another glass of wine," I told him.

"Sir? Another for you?"

"No."

Louisa sat there miserably, head in hands, eyes hooded for a time, then looked out at the ocean. "Look at that sunset, would you?"

I read once that the sun shines on the just and the unjust. I amended that to be on the happy and the unhappy. The orange disc was nearly gone, flattening in the thickening band of atmosphere, spreading the light out along the horizon. "If you look carefully, you may see the green flash."

"Green flash?"

"It's a mirage of the light seen sometimes at sunset over the ocean. Just when the sun's disc has almost completely disappeared below the ocean, a small green spot might be seen for a second. It seems to flash since it lasts for such a short time." I took her hand, the appendage lying limp on the table. "Let's watch."

"Won't it hurt our eyes?"

"May dazzle us for a few seconds. But at sunset, no great harm."

"Oh," she said with a note of relief in her soft voice.

The sun slid lower, the breeze stirred the candles on the table, and we watched. "It may not be visible, as it is a rare phenomenon," I told her as we waited. I could hear other diners chatting and eating, laughing; some whispering tender words no doubt, as the two of us sat there in mutual misery.

The sun sank and sank and just as the last stretched out bit of the sun as sat on the horizon, with all else sunk below it, there was a tiny green flash.

"I saw it!" shouted Louisa. "I saw it! Wow! Did you?"

I had swiftly turned my head to see Louisa's reaction, and I caught the happy look as the shouted. "I did."

"Wow!" she went on. "You think anybody else saw it?"

"Perhaps not. Too busy eating to observe it, I imagine."

"That _is_ a shame. How many times have you seen it? The green flash?" she asked.

"Just this once. Only this once."

"You never saw it before? But you sounded so factual about it! I thought that surely you _had_ seen it."

I shook my head. "No. Quite a sight," I said but I didn't mean the solar disc's hijinks.

"Oh." Louisa said. "But it was thrilling, wasn't it?"

I took her hand once more. "Yes. I think so." She smiled at me as I rubbed her hand. "Louisa, if you want to, then absolutely."

"What are you saying?" she said and I had her complete attention.

My throat went dry. Louisa wanted to make us more of a family, so who was I to quarrel? "Your question."

"Oh," her eyes went wary. "About the…"

"Look. We can't just…"

"Go headlong, like we did before? That what you mean?" she cackled. "It all was a bit rushed back then, wasn't it?" She sighed. "Couldn't keep our hands off one another, when you proposed could we?"

"I remember thinking that we could wait; I could have waited, if you wanted to."

"Oh?" her voice grew loud. "So it's my fault is it? Little West Country teacher, hard up for a man…"

"Louisa," I hissed trying to calm her.

"I'd just thrown over Danny Steele and there you were, looking all handsome and everything! And then…"

I interrupted her but spoke slowly. "Louisa! Please. Let me finish."

"No, No. I know. I was too desperate, thought I knew what I wanted. Our awful date at the concert, the fight, me telling you off, and then Holley got hurt and I was thrown back to you. Then I just _had_ to haul you onto the sheets. Damn!" her words were sarcastic and sad both.

"Louisa! Shush!" That stopped her. "I… need to say… that I _do_ love you. And if you want to, then I want to. No need to fly off the handle."

"What's that? What did you say? Please, Martin, tell me…" Her hand went tight on mine. "My bloody parents could never discuss anything properly, just yelling and fighting! Hope we'll not end up like them."

I sighed and spoke slowly and softly. "Louisa. Louisa, I want to say…"

"Go on."

"Well, if you want… to have… another child… another baby…"

"Yes?" Now I had her attention.

I paused. Is this what I wanted? Was it what she wanted? I could see the pleading in her face and had heard the nearly desperate tone of her voice when she'd brought it up. Child bearing and rearing is hard on women. I'd seen how stressed she was with James before his birth, but the baby's father was trying very hard to abandon her in Portwenn. How she must have dreamed of a fairy story wedding with romance, and when the time was right, then children. Here we were all at sixes and sevens. Totally cocked up the two of us. Two bloody confused people trying to sort things out. Yet here she was offering me… a family. More of a family than I had any right to expect or deserve.

I clasped her hands in mine and took the plunge. "If _you_ want to, then _I_ want to. If you are _absolutely_ sure it will make you happy, then yes. _Yes_. I want to have another baby, with you - with you, Louisa. But you _must have_ a complete physical checkup before we, uhm… go down that path."

She sat stunned for a moment. "You're saying yes?"

"Yes." I bobbed my head. "Yes. Yes, I am."

"You're saying yes."

"You don't believe me?"

She blew out a huge breath. "You mean it?"

"I just said so. I do. I did. I will!"

She looked at the ocean, the sky turning completely orange with purple to the sides. She looked away and wiped at her cheek. "Oh."

"You don't _sound_ very satisfied."

"Oh, Martin," she whispered then looked back to me and I saw a tear run down her cheek, but below the tear was a smiling mouth. "Yes. Yes! Oh God yes!"

We sat there grinning like fools as I leaned towards her and she met me halfway. "Right," I said. Her soft and luscious lips met mine. I closed my eyes and saw a green flash light up my vision.


	40. Chapter 40

Chapter 40 – Benefits

Louisa claimed she was full after the large meal and didn't want dessert, and I didn't linger over my coffee. We walked to the water's edge and we watched the old man who had taken our picture the other night saunter past.

"Buenos noches," he said, briefly blowing a kiss to Louisa.

"Buenos noches," she answered.

The man stopped and smiled at us. He muttered something for a few seconds then clapped his hands together and put his right hand over his heart.

"What's he saying?" I asked.

Louisa blushed. "Something about seeing us together makes him feel young. That is sweet." She dipped her head and smiled at the man. "Gracias senor," she answered him.

The man swept off his cap, bowed low to us and then strolled away.

Louisa sighed. "What a nice man. Lovely man." She took my hand and dragged me away from the ocean, which was fine as I disliked wetting shoes with salt water, knowing from the Mr. Strain experience sea water does shoe leather no good at all. "Shall we go back?" she said looking at the gentle waves.

"All right." The night air was balmy, still coming from the land, and the palm trees gracefully swayed back and forth. In the fading light the resort did look better than it had before as the painting going on perhaps there was an honest effort being made to spruce the place up.

Louisa yawned. "Sorry. You got a nap, I didn't."

I put an arm about her and she pillowed her head on my shoulder.

"Dinner was quite exquisite, wasn't it?" Louisa sighed.

I had managed to drink an entire glass of wine and so far felt no affects from it. Perhaps having such a large meal counteracted the soporific actions of alcohol on my brain. Yet eating such a large meal frequently would do no good for my weight, which I tried to control. "The dinner was good."

She laughed. "Not just fine? That seems to be your standard answer."

"It _was_ quite good," I bristled. "Different sort of seafood than home."

"Home?" She stopped in surprise. "You mean England?"

"No. I mean Portwenn."

"Oh… I thought you might mean… something else." She walked a few steps. "So," she took my arm, "Portwenn is home?"

I gave her a nod. "Yes."

The light from the quarter moon was dim but the low level lights along the walk showed her face quite well, and the grin was wide on her mouth. "So Portwenn is home, then."

"Yes. It would appear so."

She snuggled against me. "That is _so_ nice to hear you say that, Martin."

000

At the bungalow, she hurriedly took off her dress and hung it back in the closet, ran past me in her lacy underthings went into the loo and came out in her yellow silk nightgown. She smoothed a wrinkle at the mirror and brushed at her hair then caught my eye. "It _was_ a nice evening Martin. No that's wrong. It was _good_." She yawned again. "Sorry. Must be all the food."

Or the two glasses of wine, I thought. I let that pass and went to the bathroom. When I finished with my preparations, Louisa was snuggled down atop the sheets, her face buried in the pillow. She looked at me sleepily. "Can't keep my eyes open."

She pulled me down to her, throwing an arm about me. "Good night, Martin." She smelled of mouthwash and toothpaste and sleepy woman. Our kiss was brief.

"Good night, Louisa. Care if I read?"

"Sorry to conk out," she said sleepily, yawning. "You can read, though."

The clock read half eight and in a few additional minutes, my wife was softly snoring. I ran my eyes down her, the silk nightgown swathing her torso and legs in a tender and suggestive embrace. For a woman who was a late thirties primagravida only four months post-partum, she was something to behold. She was in fine form for climbing the hills of Portwenn giving probably the best possible aerobic exercise for free.

I kept the lights low, but it didn't seem to bother her slumbering, or her soft snoring. I was reading an article on the uptake delay of vitamin D due to a rare metabolic disorder when a nagging voice started in my head telling me there was something I needed to do.

In the bathroom with door closed, I snapped open my mobile and dialed.

It rang four times and the groggy voice of my locum answered. "Hullo? Portwenn surgery. Who is this?"

"Dr. Bell, this is Ellingham, erh, Dr. Ellingham."

"Oh, Dr. Ellingham. Hello. Why are you calling?"

Good question. "I… wanted to get back to you."

"About what?" Her voice was puzzled. "I did call you in nearly a panic. Suppose that was unprofessional to yell at _you_ about your _patients_. Almost like I was looking down my nose at you. I am sorry about that."

"Ah… yes… about that."

"That was very impolite of me…"

"Stop. Stop. I want to say…" I inhaled at the thought of the horrid E. M. H. whatever that was. "To say… that I… ahem… I didn't mean to speak… as I did. I was, surprised by your call…" I thought of the woman sleeping in the next room. "And…"

"And?"

"And…" my throat was tight and sweat broke out on my forehead. Why in Heaven's name was I like this? "I was… distracted. And I was rude and impolite." My words came out in a rush. "Not what I intended."

"Oh," the soft voice whispered over the airwaves. "That's all right! I should not have bothered you, on your holiday and all that." Now her voice was softer. "Is it nice?"

"What? Our honeymoon?"

"No, doctor. _Spain_. Somebody said you went to some fancy resort down there."

"Yes, it is quite…" I had no intention of giving a travelogue to this young female doctor, especially one I'd never met. But I had wondered if I should try to be less overbearing. Perhaps this was the place to start? "It's hot. Very hot."

"How's the lodging? A couple of my friend went down there and said they had the most amazing – oh listen to me yammering on! Sorry."

"That's all right. Our bungalow is quite… ahem… enjoyable." I could not believe that I'd actually said that.

"Oh, sounds lovely."

"Yes, it is. Nice. But that's not why I called."

"Ok. Go on then. I feel so formal calling you Dr. Ellingham. Call me Elizabeth or Liz."

"Ah. Then Liz, about my patients. At times the GP has to be the voice of reason, no matter what outmoded and outdated ideas your patients may bring in to the surgery. Now about Bert Large, he can be very…" how to say this, "obstinate, dense, thick as a brick and nearly as understanding."

She jumped in with, "He's not the only one. What about Tommy Thomas the fisherman or Billy Phillips, works with the lifesaving crew? Just as bad I think. But Sarah Wilken and her mother, wow, I thought they'd bite my head off!" I heard her gulping a bit at that. "I have gone to medical school and training! It's not like I'm some bloody volunteer first aid person on the Tube platform? Damn it!"

"They can be… rather…"

"Horrid! Martin! I just want to do a good job!"

"Dr. Bell, just try to carry on. Do what you can - keep trying - don't give up."

"But it seems hopeless at times. They've even started to call me a tosser!" she sniffed. "I am sorry."

"Me too. Sorry you are having difficulties. But if you hang in there… keep pushing on…" The door creaked open slowly and Louisa looked in with a look of curiosity and longing.

Louisa came in slowly and put arms about me. "Who is it?" she asked.

"Dr. Bell, my locum. Listen, uhm… Liz! When you have problems and you will, keep reinforcing the benefits of following your medical advice and it may be useful," I looked down as my lovely wife enfolded me with her warm embrace, "to try and soften the message. Try to be positive, supportive, and friendly, all of which may in time make inroads on their…" I felt Louisa's soft and warm curves melting into my stolid and square body. She looked up at me and smiled. "Obstinate natures. And in time…" A slender hand rubbed the small of my back. "There may be certain…" Her belly molded itself to mine, trying to align the long axis of her body with mine. I cleared my throat. "Benefits… gained between patient and doctor."

"Oh! A meeting of minds. Sort of a cooperative system. That it?"

Louisa ran a hand under my vest, pressed the side of her face to my chest and I felt and heard a distinctive and sibilant purr.

"Yes," I managed to say into the mobile but coherent thought was becoming difficult as Louisa nibbled at my collar bone.

"Yeah. Cooperative. That's it," Dr. Bell said excitedly. "I'll do that! Thank you, Martin! I'll do that. Thanks for calling! And thank you for the support! Bye!"

I found myself holding a dead mobile and a very live and warm woman, who just happened to be my wife.


	41. Chapter 41

Chapter 41 - Venus

The next day, Louisa decided to try surfing. They put her into a mixed class of raw beginners and neophytes. She cheerfully picked up the rented board and charged into the surf with the rest of her class, numbering about eight. They were five teenagers, two older women, plus Louisa. I saw her biting her lip nervously during the shallow water chat from the instructor, but to her credit, she carried on.

I sat on a lounge watching the display of pratfalls, splashes, and face plants of the class. Once or twice in the first few tries Louisa did get up on the board for a decent ride. Those times she jumped up and down, arms in the air in triumph. The others she bravely wiped the water off her face, wrung out her ponytail, and went right back at it.

I found her performance to be an allegory to her relationship with me. At other rare times things went smoothly, and the others were best to be forgotten. I was squinting through the viewfinder of my camera during a better than average ride for her, when I sensed a presence at my elbow. I lowered the camera to find Deirdre standing beside me so I stood up.

"Hullo, Doc! That the missus out there?"

"Yes. My, uhm missus. Louisa."

"I remember," the pregnant woman said. "You don't surf, then?"

"_No_."

"You're one of those."

"Those? What do you mean?" I said my hackles on the rise.

"You know what I mean! You'd rather watch than participate." She sighed. "Like most of us." She obviously felt a twinge as she put a hand on her protuberant belly. "Ooof! Hate when he does that. Kicks me hard."

"You know the sex?"

"Yeah. We do. One of those ultrasounds. There the little guy was, bold as brass." She giggled. "He's quite a kicker. Practicing for football."

I raised the camera and took a few more shots of Louisa as she wobbled while upright on the board.

"Uhm, Doc?" Deirdre asked.

"I prefer Doctor Ellingham or you may use my first name."

"Ok, I was wondering… I've been having a lot of feelings, almost like contractions, from what I've read."

Great! Childbirth by book. "How long do they last?"

"Only a few…" she stopped. "There was another one."

"Have you been drinking plenty of water and resting?"

"Oh yeah." She showed me a bottle of water in her hand. "But from the way I been having a wee every hour I doubt any of it is stayin' in!" she chuckled.

"You should call your GP or OB."

"I did and they said the same thing. Drink and rest."

I peered down at the woman who looked even larger than I remembered from yesterday. Her shoulders were thrown well back and her massive breasts jutted out over her football belly. She held herself fairly erect despite her condition. "How long?" I could see how her ankles were swollen and her feet and toes looked quite engorged. Louisa had endured this and I was a terrible person to her at the time, damn me.

"About eight weeks."

"Been keeping cool? Any more headaches, that sort of thing."

"I've been by the pool in the shade, mostly."

"Humph. You should have stayed home."

She sighed. "I know. Alf got dragged off to a meeting of some sort this morning and that Mylow person too. Mylow's a friend of yours, I suppose."

I nodded. "Long ago and not exactly a friend - an acquaintance."

The woman shielded her eyes and peered at Louisa. "She's doing well, don't you think?"

Louisa had just made an S-turn across the face of a small wave and then shot straight towards shore. She was grinning ear to ear when I saw a massive wave rise up behind her and smack her down with boiling water. I saw her head appear for a moment just as the surfboard popped into the air and came down on the water with a loud smack.

"Ooooh! Don't like the look of that," Deirdre said.

My eyes started from my head when I saw that Louisa did not surface. "Here!" I screamed as I forced my camera onto the woman. "Louisa!" I yelled as I sprinted towards the water.

000

Louisa spluttered and gasped as I reached her and the next wave knocked me down as well, plus I experienced the hurt of a bobbing surfboard when it rams into you. I grabbed fabric and flesh and hung on, trying to get my feet under me as all I saw was water, foam, and sand. After a few seconds I got my head fully above water just as I felt Louisa clutching at my arm.

Her head came up and she shook her face to clear it of her clinging wet hair. "God!"

"Got you," I said just as another wave got us. More sand and water came over us; more of the can't breathe feeling. But I managed to stand as a lifeguard came in and took her other arm. She was not quite dead weight as we got her out of the water and laid her on the sand.

The lifeguard started to run for help as Louisa stirred weakly and coughed. "That was no fun," she choked out.

I peeled back her eyelids. "How's your head?"

"Think I'm alright. Board got me just here," she pointed to the top of her head. "Nailed me good."

I touched the spot and she winced. I probed but found no blood. "Doesn't look like it broke the skin."

She levered herself up on her elbows. "You got me though."

I nodded. "I did." I ran hands along her limbs. "Any neck discomfort? Any scrapes?"

"Don't think so," she muttered but winced when I touched her left instep.

"Ouch. That hurts."

I found a small abrasion there. "Must have been a bit of sharp shell or something."

"Yeah. Must have been." Louisa cleared her throat and spat sand and sputum. "Gah! Hate that; all gritty."

A plump female hand came into view with a bottle of water. "Here, dearie. Take this."

Louisa looked up at Deirdre. "Thanks." She drank and cleared her mouth. "Think I'm all right now."

Her errant surfboard was recovered by the instructor and I jumped on the man. "Why weren't you watching? My wife could have been seriously hurt!"

The boy, who reminded me of Ross the surfer who punched me in the nose in Portwenn, recoiled. "Hey mate! These things happen! Don't get all touchy with me. The waves can be gnarly at times!" His voice sounded like Louisa's – West Country.

"You are very lucky that she was not seriously hurt!" I shouted and the kid ignored me.

He knelt on the sand by Louisa. "What to try again?"

"No!" I shouted.

"Maybe," said Louisa softly. "Give me a minute or two."

"Right, miss. You were doin' great until that wave slapped you from behind. Does that sometimes. You have to listen for those! Sneaky buggers."

"If you think I'd let my wife get on that dangerous…" I started to say, my hands held on hips belligerently.

"Oh Martin. Relax." Louisa looked up. "I am all right. I'm fine."

Deirdre smiled down at her. "Good for you. I could tell that you have pluck. You're a tough girl! I can see that! And I got some great photos of the rescue!" She held out the camera. "Have a look!"

I crouched by Louisa's side and Deirdre flipped back through several shots, most showing my bum racing to the water. But the one that showed the lifeguard and me taking Louisa up was good, at least in focus and well framed.

Louisa chuckled ruefully. "One for the diary."

Unbidden words spilled from my lips.

"_Of august gold-wreathed and beautiful_

_Aphrodite I shall sing to whose domain_

_belong the battlements of all sea-loved_

_Cyprus where, blown by the moist breath_

_of Zephyros, she was carried over the_

_waves of the resounding sea on soft foam._

_The gold-filleted Horae happily welcomed_

_her and clothed her with a heavenly raiment."_

"What's that?" asked Louisa.

"Those were published by the Greek poet Chalkokondyles in 1488 in a Homeric poem of the birth of Venus. It possibly inspired Botticelli to paint his _Birth of Venus_, which is in Florence." I ducked my head at her surprised look.

"Oh, so you think I'm Venus?"

I let that question go unanswered but I did smile at her.

**Author's Notes:**

**Sandro Botticelli's _Birth of Venus_ hangs in the Uffizi Gallery in Florence, Italy.**

**Caroline Catz, the actress who plays Louisa Glasson was flattened by a wave when surfing near Port Isaac.**


	42. Chapter 42

Chapter 42 – Females

Louisa did get back onto the surfboard, although she had to contend with me fussing about her continuing while Deirdre tut-tutted beside. "She's doing quite well, don't you think?" the woman told me as we watched Louisa successfully make four runs in a row.

"Yes, but I wish…"

"Wish what?"

"Nothing." I changed the subject peering at Deirdre as she perched on the beach lounge next to mine. "Are you sure that your due date is in eight weeks? Or is this a very large fetus?"

She laughed. "You sound just like Alf! But he is a worrier." She sighed. "It could be, that uhm, this one got started a bit earlier than we thought."

"Could be, or did?" I bored into her.

She glanced away then stared at her swollen feet for a little while. "You see…" Her words were interrupted by a spattering of water falling from a smiling Louisa.

"I'm done! That felt great! Really fab!" Louisa grabbed up a towel and patted at her dripping face and hair. "Sorry, I'm getting you all wet!"

"No problem, luv. Here," Deirdre grunted as she tried to rise. "I'm sittin' on your lounge."

Louisa put a hand on her shoulder and held Deirdre down. "That's all right. I've gotten a bit peckish. What say we get lunch? You should join us, that ok, Martin?"

I could only nod, knowing that argument on my part would be useless. "How's your head? Where the board hit you?"

"It's fine. Right then!" Louisa said happily. "Who's for a bite to eat?"

000

The pool side café had an adequate selection of grilled sandwiches, such as chicken and fish. Louisa chose a grilled prawn salad, our luncheon guest picked chicken, and I was tucking into a snapper, which though good, had been grilled with the head on and it peered up at me unhappily. Louisa and Deirdre chatted away about babies, born and unborn as my lunch stared at me.

As Louisa was giving the woman her vast experience of natural childbirth and breastfeeding, I mused about mammalian life and reproduction. There were advantages to growing a fetus in a womb, rather than a hard-shelled egg, plus as sapiens, apes and monkeys do, caring for the young allows for better reproductive success. My wife was a mum, and the woman she was talking to will be one in a short time. I craned my neck about and took stock of the people arrayed about the pool. Roughly half were women or girls.

There were some little girls playing in the paddling pool, attentively watched by their mums. Their little heads bobbed back and forth, likely playing some sort of game they'd invented. In the proper pool, more girls, taller and older, did much the same; yelling and splashing about. Older females were sunning themselves, drinking or eating, or had noses stuck into books or magazines. The few elderly women to be seen were doing the same.

My attention was then drawn to the teens or what appeared to be unattached young women. Three were holding court at pool side in the midst of five or six young men. The men were doing tricks off the diving board, each time yelling and waving to the girls as they dove into the deep end. Clearly hormones were doing their thing, exciting the males and females in various ways, overtly and covertly. The mating dance was evident; past, present, or future.

Every female at pool side, unless they had genetic or developmental anomalies, had two X chromosomes in their cell nuclei, and their reproductive systems were normally capable of producing mature eggs, getting one or two fertilized at a time, bearing the fetus to delivery, and then feeding the offspring with their milk-producing breasts.

Human society exists because of this natural biological imperative, producing seven billion people presently inhabiting the planet. It would seem that children, if raised in stable environments, were better fit as they grew. Louisa sat next to me, a bare knee jammed into mine under the table. I could smell the sunscreen on her skin, sea salt from the ocean, and just being close to her felt good.

Based on what I knew of human nature and the propensity to ignore common sense, basic hygiene, and medical advice each person would require medical help at some point. I sighed at the thought of all the runny noses, intestinal disorders, broken limbs, and cardiac infarctions being treated by suffering MDs, or not, at the moment.

Deirdre looked nearly ready to deliver her child, based on my doctor's eye and the cryptic comments she almost made to me. Her dates must be off or some other mix up happened unless she had full blown gestational diabetes producing a giant fetus.

I thought of James being cared for by my aunt and I smiled. He was so fortunate that his mother's and father's natural pigheadedness had been overcome. He would be the better for it; having two parents about to support one another. Granted Louisa was willing to take a chance – to be a single mum – on her own. But there was no doubt that the last few days had been more - _effective_ - in our relationship than all the previous time put together. In spite of myself I found I was carrying a half smile about rather than my usual frown. So I suppose I was the better for it as well.

Deirdre and Louisa had now moved onto various methods and theories of baby swaddling, cloth versus paper nappies, and merits of various shampoos, soaps, and emollients.

I had just finished consuming my fish, when my mobile rang in the carryall which Louisa had draped over her chair. I hurriedly extracted it from under beach clutter and snapped it open. In my fumbling I'd switched the thing to speaker phone mode. "Ellingham!" I shouted.

A panicky woman's voice screamed forth. "Doc? Doc! It's Maureen Fenn! Help! One of the twins is choking and I don't know what to do!"


	43. Chapter 43

Chapter 43 – A Game of Chess

Why the woman was calling me considering how far I was from the village was not the first question in my mind. I could hear Maureen's panic, a crying child in the background, and the stridorous sound of a gasping child held nearly to the phone.

"Bobby was just crawling about on the flooring and I was tending to Billy who'd made a horrible mess of the table when Bobby grabbed my leg and started breathing like this! My God Doc! What should I do?" Maureen yelled out of the mobile.

Louisa clutched at my arm and I shook her off. "Maureen! Maureen! Can he still breathe? He must be getting some air from what I can hear!" I yelled into my mobile.

"Yah, I think so!"

"Hold the phone to his mouth so I can hear him!"

I could some fumbling then I heard a sharp pitched whistle as air was drawn in, followed by a click upon exhalation. Must be an obstruction! "Maureen! Talk to me again!" There was a painful sounding cough as well which made me think quite hard about the situation.

"Ok, Doc! What can I do?" Maureen asked and her voice had that hopeless tone I've heard far too many times.

"Was he eating? What was he doing?"

"Oh we'd just eaten luncheon, the boys had a good feed of bangers and mash. I cut the sausages into little pieces, you know, so they can handle 'em! Then I took Bobby out of his chair and put him on the floor, while I cleaned up his brother!"

Food – food. Not the food. I racked my brain.

Louisa was now leaning over the table. "Does he need the Heimlich maneuver?" she shouted.

"Shush!" I hissed at her. "Maureen!" I yelled to make myself heard over the screeches coming over the phone. "What were they doing before you fed them?"

"Oh, I don't know," the woman mumbled, "playing. Roger had the chess set out the other night, playing with Al Large, and the kids were playing with those."

Chess. A chess set. "Are the pieces small – from the chess set?"

"Yeah, they are. The kids had pulled the whole thing down off the table and were playing in the wreckage. But he's still choking Doc!"

That much was true as I heard a cranky, crying sound, which must be the other twin, overlaid on the whistling cough.

"Doc! Doc! Bobby's now starting to turn blue!" Maureen screamed.

"Pick him up," I yelled, "turn him upside down, and shake him like mad!"

"What?"

"Do it you silly woman! There must be a foreign object, a toy or something, in his windpipe. Do it and quickly!"

I heard the clunk of the mobile on a hard surface and more crying from the other child along with oaths from the now hysterical Maureen along the lines of, "Help me Jesus! Oh my God, come on Bobby…"

I heard all this as Louisa stood stricken leaning over me, her face already running tears. "Maureen?"

I heard a slap as a hand on wood or a young body.

"Doc! That did it!" shouted Maureen happily. "God. What is it? It's a bloody chess piece. One of the little ones. He had it down his throat! I gave him a good hard slap right between the shoulder blades and out it flew like a shot!"

"Is he breathing now?"

She answered by putting the phone to the child and I heard a crying scream, the likes to blow an eardrum out. "Listen to that, would you!" added Maureen to the din. "Listen to them healthy two-year-old little lungs! He's right as rain now! Thank you Doc! Bless you!"

I relaxed slightly. "Is he fine now? No longer blue or choking?"

"Oh, yeah," she told me. "Crying to beat the band, and covered with tears, but he's all right. He's perfect now!"

I chose the moment to teach. "Maureen, listen very carefully! Little children will put almost anything into their mouths! Leaving toys, food, anything, even matches or pins on the floor or a table; anything they can reach, might end up in their mouths! You must keep a tidy floor and house! All the time! Got that?"

"Yeah, I hear you Doc," she sighed. "I been meaning to clean things up a bit! You can't imagine how messy things can get. No Billy don't do that! Put down that bowl! Sorry Doc. Soon enough you'll know what it's like to chase the little buggers around the house. How's the holiday working out?"

Louisa answered her. "We're fine Maureen. How are you and Roger and the boys? And I'm glad that Martin could help you out!"

"Aye, that's why I called! I couldn't get through to the surgery, but I had your mobile number right here, Doc. You gave it to Fenn when he had his throat surgery. Damn glad I had that! By the time I'd have called Emergency… Oh God," she ended in sniffles.

Louisa wiped at her face. "There there, Maureen. It's all right now."

"Maureen! I want you to call Dr. Bell, the locum, at the slightest further difficulty! He may have abraded his trachea! So if Bobby starts to cough or choke again or brings up blood…" I was stopped by Louisa's look of concern and I swallowed hard. "Straight away do call the surgery! Do you understand?"

We were treated to more sniffles, children crying, and a nose being blown as a finale. "Ok. Got it Doc! We're all fine on this end, thanks to you! I'd best get to setting straight the disaster these two hellions have made. Bye Louisa! Goodbye Doc! Enjoy your honeymoon, you two!"

The line went dead and I snapped closed the mobile.

"Well," said Louisa, "_that_ was scary."

Deirdre sat across the table with a stricken look on her. "That happen often?"

"Not always," Louisa replied. "But the villagers will call Martin at the most awkward of times," she sniffed. "And he always answers."

I looked straight across the table at Deirdre. "What you have just heard is the result of having twin children late in life and not caring _properly_ for them! _Remember_."

"Martin?" Louisa scolded. "That is too harsh. Maureen is a nice woman and with Roger teaching two half-jobs to make up for Maureen staying at home I'm sure the poor thing is swamped at times. And besides, it was all an accident."

My pulse was still racing and heated words started to come from my brain but I clamped that off. "Still, lucky that it didn't completely obstruct his airway! For if the chess pawn had gone down further…" My words ground to a halt and I stood. "Excuse me."

I rapidly walked away and to the pool loo, where I went into a stall, closed the door and sat down on the toilet. My hands were shaking, my stomach was roiling in spasms and I just managed to keep hot vomit from spewing onto the tile for I had been forced to play a deadly game. And _this_ time Death had lost, by only the _barest_ of margins.


	44. Chapter 44

Chapter 44 - Shark

Eventually I regained some composure after washing my face with cold water so I returned to the pool, quite shaken by my reaction to the emergency. I thought that I had my haemophobia under control and dreadfully wondered if this near panic attack was to be my next bugaboo to overcome. When I saw Mr. Catalao - master of snake oil - bending down and leering at Louisa I could tell that all of his attention was turned onto my wife, ignoring the very pregnant Deirdre. He flashed his teeth like some ocean carnivore and I disliked the man even more.

"Senora Ellingham," the man hissed, "are you and Doctor Ellingham enjoying your stay?" The way he stood behind Louisa and peered down at a certain angle, I was certain he was treating himself to a view of her charms. I hated tossers who acted that way around women.

"Yes, we are," I heard her say. "Martin and I and Deirdre have just had the nicest lunch."

"Si. We aim to please at my resort! But Deirdre, I am not sure… of whom you speak."

Deirdre turned to him. "That's me," she squinted up at him. "Mrs. Sheppard. I don't think we've met."

"But of course, Senora Sheppard, are you, erh, related to one Senor Sheppard?" I heard him say, as I sat down. "Doctor Ellingham! So nice to see you!" he gushed. "I trust that things are going well?"

"Fine," I said curtly.

Deirdre answered his question. "That would be my Alf. His given name is Alfred of course."

Catalao froze and the expression on his face switched to one of extreme cautiousness. "Senora? Senor Sheppard is your husband?"

"That's him," Deirdre smiled up at Catalao, seemingly unaware of the man's discomfort. "I know he's not much to look at but he…"

Catalao straightened up with a jerk. "Yes, I see," his voice had gone cold. "Then I will leave you to your luncheon. Enjoy! If there is anything that I can… do?" He waved his hands like he was trying to conjure a rabbit out of a hat.

"Well, I did want to say something about the lumpy mattress in our cottage, and the towels smell a bit musty…" Deirdre started to say, but she was addressing Senor Catalao's back as he had turned and bustled away.

"Oh, my," said Louisa. "That was rude."

I sneered as Catalao raced away, artfully dodging other patrons who tried to intercept him. "He reminds me…"

"Of who?" Louisa said.

I had been about to say that his insincere words and body language reminded me of Danny Steel in the specious way he would spout religious phrases, "Not certain," I muttered. I didn't want to mention the architect.

Louisa squinted at Catalao's back. "It was almost like Mr. Colley, our school custodian. But the poor man was confused. Catalao seems to be… mystifying, all the time; sort of sneaky as well. Not sure that I trust him completely."

"What was the matter with him?" Deirdre asked. "The man at your school."

"He was suffering from carbon monoxide poisoning," I explained.

"And Martin had to climb up on the school roof and bring him down." Louisa explained as she tapped my knee under the table.

Deirdre beamed at me. "Well, Doctor, you are quite the man of action, aren't you?"

I ducked my head and said nothing and neither did Louisa did stifle a laugh. The word _action_ could be considered a code word between us two, as Louisa had used it more than once recently. Each time she had been complimenting me.

"Oh, yes," chuckled Louisa. Her hand dug into my knee and I yelped.

"Something wrong, Doc?" Deirdre asked.

"There was a bee," I waved my hand about.

"Okaayy," Deirdre drawled as she put a hand to her mouth as she yawned. "I'm off to have a lie down. Thank you for lunch. I really…" she looked away, "appreciate it."

Deirdre painfully stood, huffing all the while, and lugging her beach carryall left us. Louisa watched her waddle away. "You know, Martin, that is going to be a huge baby," she observed.

"Yes, I've been thinking the same thing."

Louisa drank some water and turned to me. "You know, I was thinking…"

I groaned internally as when Louisa said that, at least this week, it usually meant that she wished to drag me to the bungalow or engage in a discussion about things that were unsettled. Not that I didn't mind, that much, the bungalow parts. "Yes?" What she said next astonished me.

She sighed. "I made a huge mistake."

"Oh? When? What about?"

"When… oh, watching Deirdre and her hubby together, married, and having a baby…"

I bit my tongue as she went on.

"I should have… really should have…" she took my hand and interlaced her cool fingers as she took a huge intake of air. "It was a mistake and I am sorry. So sorry."

I turned to face her and she was wiping at a tear. "No, no. Don't cry." Women cried and so did men, but women and girls tended to cry far more frequently was my experience. "Now what's this about? And what does it have to do with Deirdre?"

She dabbed at her face with a facial tissue. Her hand squeezed mine. "When I… was gone…"

"This is about London."

She nodded miserably.

"When you were pregnant with James Henry." I got a hand squeeze as an answer. "Ah," I blurted out.

A breeze picked up, waving the palm trees back and forth. The moving air cooled the sweat on my back as a ray of sunlight speared me. Seagulls wheeled overhead below a sky that seemed to be growing clouds as I watched. Louisa now was silently weeping, her hand clutching mine once more and I warily waited for the storm to subside or to increase. I sat there stiffly, unsure what to say or do and I was fairly certain that if I opened my mouth I could only make things worse.

After some minutes, Louisa dropped my hand and dabbed at her face and blew her nose loudly. "Sorry for that… performance." Her breath caught.

I could only nod as she tried to put herself together, so I said, "Right." That made her put a hand back on mine.

"I'm trying to say that I should have…" another sigh, "should have called you… as soon as I found out. But I was…"

I imagined a number of words that word finish that sentence.

Louisa ducked her head. "Stubborn."

"There is that. But I was no better, was I?"

"No. No, you weren't. I was so afraid…"

"Afraid of me, no doubt."

"No, not that. I was so certain that I could, no needed, to go it alone. That was selfish and I'm sorry. Just thinking back to that time makes me feel so… small."

I could only nod but knew that a hand was being held out across the abyss to me and I must take it. "I should have," my voice had gone gravelly, "called. I wanted to, but…"

Louisa rubbed my hand. "I know. Me too."

"Right. But I should have, erh…" For some reason the air had gone thick and not breathable. I struggled to put words together as harsh memory flooded back. Louisa in her bed, when we had made love for the first time and the second, the bumbling way I gave her an engagement ring, the look on her face when she hesitantly walked in with a letter of regret the day we did not get married, and the hesitant look she had when she knocked on my door after a six month absence. But those were the failures. There were just as many brilliant moments, the birth of our son, the way she stood by me when Joan had died, the way we came together when Mrs. T had made off with James Henry, and the sweet reconciliation. All those things flooded into me; feelings of sadness and agony, and fantastic joy and love. "Thank you for giving me another chance," I managed to blurt out. "I do love you Louisa. I think I always have."

She rested her head on my arm for a moment then we kissed. It was brief, without much passion, but it was sweet and the promise of many days and nights together, made it all the better.

Louisa stirred. "When Deirdre speaks about Alf her face lights up, have you noticed?"

What Mrs. Sheppard saw in the short, rotund, red-faced and forceful Mr. Sheppard I could not say. I nodded, not wanting to admit that I had not seen their look of adoration.

"The two of them, Alf and Deirdre," she sighed, "that should have been us; together, through that. I wanted it to be."

For some reason this conversation along with the carnivore-like Catalao as he leered down Louisa's cleavage, made me realize that Louisa and I have been in a lifeboat. We tried to pretend that the occasional thumps and bumps under the boat were nothing but waves. Yet danger continued to circle about, the danger of not paying attention to the swirling regrets, slights, and disappointments which could sink our little raft out from under us. "We're together now," I told her.

"Yes," she sniffed as she reached out with both arms and tried to climb into my lap.

After this baring of our two souls, I looked down the path and saw Senor Catalao emerge from a building, pursued by Alf Sheppard. Neither one looked very happy. Perhaps the shark was now being chased by an orca.


	45. Chapter 45

Chapter 45 - Hero Worship

I reluctantly managed to lever Louisa out of my lap and looked down into her expectant face. "What do you want to do? That is… at the moment… erh, that is…" I stammered out.

She laughed. "Back to the beach. Fancy a walk?"

"All right, but not until we have applied more sunscreen. I doubt there is much left after the energetic dip into the ocean."

We didn't get very far when my mobile rang. Louisa groaned with irritation as I answered it. "Ellingham."

"Martin? It's Ruth."

"Hullo. How's James?"

"Oh, he's fine. I thought you'd want to know that the village gossip lines are burning up with what you've done."

"Oh?" I grated. "So what have the cretins been saying about me now?"

"Martin!" Louisa screeched. "They are NOT cretins, or idiots, or backward inbred idiots as you seem to think!" She crossed her arms and I could almost see steam vent from her ears as her eyes flashed. "They are my people, my friends, and our neighbors for God's sake and if you think that you can keep calling them names…" Her voice wound down and I found a pointed index aimed at my face. "OOOH!" she blurted out. "You just _watch it!_"

"Ok. Ruth, what have the…ahem… _villagers_ been saying now?" I said while Louisa dropped her arm and backed a step away.

"Well," my aunt's querulous voice came to my ear, "the wires have been burning up with the way you saved the Fenn boy via a long distance mobile call. Just thought you ought to know - so you can prepare yourself."

"For what?"

"Martin. You have to admit this is a rather like pulling the rabbit out of the hat by remote from lunar orbit. Just be ready, is all. I'd not want you to…"

"To what?"

"Oh, Martin. Just remember that you _are_ now married to the village head mistress, so you can't very well tell them all to bugger off, can you?"

I could only imagine to what inane lengths the citizens Portwenn might go to. "Oh God."

"Right." I heard her sniff. "Good show, Martin." She sighed next. "Your son has been sleeping through the night, only because I have moved his cot into my room. Perhaps he is used to the sound of other people at night. Or maybe the kid just liked the sound of snoring, as I know I do it."

"Yeah. Ok. Anything else?"

"No," and I heard the smirk in her voice. "Hero they called you. Bye Martin. Say hi to the teacher for me, will you?" then she rung off.

I stared at the mobile for a few seconds and snapped it shut. "Ruth says hello and James is fine. And the villagers are all… agog apparently." I sniffed. "Just medicine - not bloody hero worship!"

Louisa took my arm. "Oh, so they think back home that you…"

"Yeah."

"Hero?"

"Yes."

"I see," she sighed softly and squeezed my hand. "How many does that make - that you've saved in all?"

"Louisa? I don't keep bloody count, now do I? It's not done!" I bellowed.

Alex the Romanian pool waitress ran up just then and stretching up on tiptoes, bussed me on the cheek. "Thank you Doctor Ellingham. The clinic doctor says you are a genius! You saved my eye!" She pressed the sunglasses that Louisa had bought for me and then given to the girl, it being necessary. The child hugged me briefly then ran away smiling all the while.

Louisa chuckled. "_Another_ admirer? I'd better watch out! You'll have all the young girls chasing after you. Dear, dear Martin. You may not keep count, but they do." She tugged on my hand to pulling me towards the beach. "Come. Let's take a walk."

Numbly I followed, ears burning while hoping and praying that Alex the waitress would not attempt to climb into my bed like Melanie had back home.

One comforting thought was that Louisa would already have half of the bed occupied, and from the way things had been going the bed sheets would not be cold _or_ lonely.


	46. Chapter 46

Chapter 46 – About Hands

I'm not sure how far we walked. I was walking to seaward, as the sloping beach and the soft sand made me inches shorter than my wife, who walked next to me. From time to time I tuned to my right and beheld with wonder that we were together. The water was warm, there were seabirds flying about, and Louisa - I sighed to myself - she held my hand. It was warm, her skin soft and smooth, especially as it was coated with sunblock cream.

She looked over at me and smiled.

It reminded me of the day Joan was buried. I was upset over the lateness of the hearse, and I found my hand taken by Louisa, who had come to stand with me, with our son in her arms. I had peered at her, wondering what it meant – her hand. Her smile, I knew. It said that it would be all right. It wasn't; it was horrible. Joan was dead, my plans to return to surgery in pieces, Louisa had the baby two weeks early… but Louisa stood by me; our future uncertain.

Step by step we went on, the sand sliding under our feet. Perhaps our footing was a metaphor for life. I'm not so strong on symbols, signs from Heaven, any of that rubbish. If I ever had any inkling of any of that lot, my horrid parents had destroyed that. Public school had finished whatever was left.

Now I found that my trust in people was starting to be rebuilt. It started with the touch of a hand in a taxi after a hellish night.

Louisa told me last week that if I'd not been such a dolt and made a crack about her bad breath, we might have saved years of misery. I had laid back on the pillow in shock. "Really."

"Yes, I mean it," Louisa said. "I do."

"Just because I saved Peter Cronk?"

"No." She ran a hand up my chest and neck then stroked my face. "No. Not only because of Peter."

"Oh."

She had snuggled then and sighed contentedly. I supposed I did as well. "So you're saying," I went on, "that…"

"Yes, Doctor. I wanted to…" Her fingers played with my ear. "To… you _know_."

"So hospitals and gory surgery in an ambulance turned you on? Some people do get excited by…"

Her hand patted my face _hard_ and it _hurt_.

"Owww!" I yelled.

"Martin. No! But you saved the boy and that just made me feel that you were worth knowing. I mean, worthwhile to get to know a lot better." Her slender hand had taken mine and kissed it. "Now," she added, "let's sleep?"

I nodded in the dark and we did slumber for what was left of that night.

I squeezed her fingers on the beach and she pressed back.

Hands were amazing things. Not mere extensions for grasping, but for feeling, touching, stroking… I must have blushed as Louisa laughed.

"What?"

She smirked. "What's that smile for? I don't think I've seen you smile in daylight that often."

"I was… well… recalling dinner the other night."

She chuckled. "That was special. The dinner, the green flash, and later."

We walked in silence for a time.

"I was scared, Martin."

"Of what? Of me?"

She nodded.

"Oh."

Waves washed our feet for another twenty yards or so. "Afraid."

"Yes, I was."

"But… not any more."

She shook her head. "Don't think so."

"One thing, Louisa."

"Yes, Martin?"

I held her hand tightly, stopped walking and swung around to face her squarely. "Don't ever run away again. All right?"

He mouth fell open. "Yeah. Suppose I learnt that from my mum." She sighed. "Looks like she ran off again, didn't she?"

"Yeah." My thumb rubbed the back of her hand. "But she doesn't matter."

"If you say so," she said but I saw her lip quiver as she blinked rapidly.

"What did Julie, or Emma, or whatever the Hell she's calling herself lately tell us?"

"Oh, now I've heard everything. Doc Martin listening to a felon."

"_Former_ felon," I corrected. "She told us to _let it go_."

Louisa smiled and kissed me on the lips. "She did."

"Willing to try that approach?"

Louisa brushed a strand of hair from her face. "We can try, then. Can't we?"

My thumb had continued to stroke her hand of its own accord. "We can. Yes."

"Won't be easy."

I shook my head. 'No."

"No going back is there? No time machine to fix things in the past."

I shook my head again. "Not a bloody telly show. Not for us."

Louisa laughed. "Nor a blue police box." She took both my hands in hers. "Right." She took a deep breath. "Let's go back to the resort. Walked far enough?"

I didn't think that I wanted this walk to end. "Ok." We started to plod back and I felt the sun burning my face. Just another couple of days and we'd be back - home - home in Portwenn. I breathed deeply.

"Something wrong, Martin?"

"Don't think so."

"Good," she smiled. "Then things are perfect?"

"Might be."

"Come on then, Doctor Ellingham. I know something that will make things even better." She chuckled wickedly but without malice.

"Right," I said, looking forward to the experience as her hand felt warm in mine.


	47. Chapter 47

Chapter 47 - Something Sweet

"This is what you meant?" I almost bellowed in disbelief.

"Yeah," Louisa replied and I saw the longing in her eyes. "I do want it."

"This?" I waved my hand about.

"You don't like it?"

I sighed and Louisa rushed with words into the gap. "If you don't like it… we could… try something else." She whispered nearly into my ear, and her warm breath made me realize how much I had missed her when she was in London - and had nearly lost her for good.

"No, it's fine."

Her hand shifted on my arm. "Are you sure?" she asked huskily. "How much do you like it?"

I pondered how to answer.

"Probably not the best thing you've ever had, I'm certain."

"No, it's fine."

"There's that word again. Finnne." She strung out the last word as her lips brushed my cheek. "That's the best you can do?"

How many times had I been questioned about my lack of emotional responses? Years of surgery and maintaining my professional composure had habitually conditioned me to keep most of my feelings inside. The call from my Aunt Ruth had let me vent some of most upset feelings about the backward denizens of Portwenn. But this was closer, more personal, more… what exactly. It was fine, but the way I said the word told Louisa something entirely different. Louisa who could go swear like a fisherman yet in the next instant, almost with a flip of her hair and head, change from one extreme to the other - from angry to pleading or shouting to sated.

I had said fine and it _was_ fine, also acceptable, adequate, and useful. But the way it came out of my fleshy lips nearly into her ear… I glanced at her eyes and they were waiting - waiting for an answer that told her more than the bland words that I usually used.

Bland was another good word. Was I bland _and_ boring? From the way that Louisa was expectantly staring at me, she was obviously waiting for an answer. A real answer, one that was heartfelt and not so damn _tedious_, so expected and usual for once Doctor Martin Ellingham.

Her hand rubbed at my bare arm, her soft bust pressed into my shoulder and arm with almost conjugal contact. If it were only that easy…

"Cat got your tongue?"

"No," I muttered.

"You're sure?" Her eyes flicked away and back. "We don't have to…"

"It's fine."

"That word Martin." She sighed. "Use another, please?"

"Right."

"How about interesting? Or exciting or…"

I placed a hand on her lips. "Exquisite."

"Exquisite?" she chuckled. "That's a very expensive word, don't you think?"

"Expensive?"

"A ten pound word."

"Oh." I sighed for I wasn't sure I'd ever get this part right. "Louisa, I am… trying to respond appropriately."

"Appropriately?" She stuck out her tongue at me. "Appropriately. Really."

Air hissed from my nose, knowing that I had lost this discussion several sentences back. "But if it's what you want, go ahead."

"Oh, I will, have no doubt of that." She stopped touching me and moved away a few inches.

"Louisa, I…"

"Yes?" Her eyes swung back to me.

"Give me another chance, if you would."

She laughed. "Oh, Martin. Good God. As if I could ever NOT give you another chance." Her hand came up and draped itself across my shoulder.

"So you're not mad at me?"

"No," she chuckled.

"That's good, then."

"Glad we got that settled." She hugged me soundly and I felt the tingle of her touch.

"Let's move on then, may we?"

"Right." These encounters were always touchy.

""So, then," her soft voice came to my ears. "What would you like?"

"Like?"

"Yes, Martin," Louisa laughed. "What..."

"Oh, yes." I looked where she pointed.

"May not be quite as nice as back in Portwenn."

"Not much is like Portwenn."

"There is that. Now, Martin, what flavor?"

"Flavor?"

She pointed to the signage by the pool snack shop. "Chocolate or vanilla? I doubt this will be as nice as Kelly's ice cream back home. But it will be cold and sweet." She smiled. "I'll have a double vanilla."

"Is that wise? Ice cream has a very heavy load of fats and sugars."

She shook her head. "A little ice cream won't hurt that much, can it? Besides it's hot out and I want one."

I peered down at her. "Yeah. Sure. Go ahead."

"You want one? Just a little one?"

"As long as you don't jam it onto my forehead."

She stretched up and kissed the line of my jaw. "That was…"

"Forgivable. My fault. And I'll have a small vanilla."

"Really? Well that's… fine Martin. Really fine."

She stepped up to the window and placed her order in halting Spanish. She was just turning to me with her purchases when I was nearly bowled over by Senor Catalao rushing up to me.

"Doctor Ellingham! Just the person I needed to see!" the man yelled and I could see fear on his face.

"Oh God," I groaned. "What in the bloody hell do you want?"


	48. Chapter 48

Chapter 48 - Substance

Catalao peered at me in what must have been sweaty delight as he grew a huge smile while he dabbed at beads of perspiration doting his forehead. "I do not wish to impose, Senor, but… you see…"

"Is this a medical issue? For if it is you see your own physician. I do not have the necessary licenses to practice in your country. Everything I have done, what little it was, was on an emergent basis." I told him as I observed his face and posture, the twitchy way he moved his hands and so forth.

"No, not medical," the man said.

Louisa said hello softly and offered me the ice cream cone, which seemed far more enjoyable to consider eating the icy confection, rather than deal with Senor Catalao.

Catalao encircled us with his arms. "Please, let us go into the shade, while I speak with you." He gave a toothy grin to Louisa, as her beach drape was nearly falling off her shoulders. He sucked air through his white teeth. "Yes, Senora Ellingham. How have you been enjoying your honeymoon? I trust that we have things… enjoyable?" he leered.

Louisa ducked her head. "It is nice. We've had a good time, haven't we Martin?"

I grunted. "Yeah. Just the occasional drowning to disturb us."

"Si! That was fantastico! Magnifico! How strange that twice you have to intervene with the Italian boy." He shrugged. "But children, they can be… troublesome, yes?"

I nodded while Louisa chuckled. "Our son is still quite young… just a baby, really."

"You have a child? Already? Good for you! Good for you! My Maria and me we tried for many years, finally after much travail and heartache… we had our own son." He paused. "His name is Ernesto. He is almost twenty now. But sit, sit!" He nearly pushed us into two chairs and sat opposite, scooting his chair quite close to us.

Somehow I doubted that an explanation of his family history was what the man wanted to tell us. "Go on."

Catalao's eyes darted from side to side and he sighed. "You have no idea how fortunate I, no the entire staff at El Grande Resort Blanco, is to have you stay with us! For if you had not been here…" he shrugged, "any manner of…" he looked away then slowly returned his stare to us, "disasters would have befallen us."

Louisa nudged me. "Martin, your ice cream is going."

As I was listening to Catalao I had felt something prickling at my attention. It was cold, sticky, and creeping, and Louisa had forced me to acknowledge the trickling of melted ice cream down across my fingers and splattering onto my foot. "Gawd," I muttered while Louisa handed me a tissue to dab at the mess. I finally had to resort to licking away at the ice cream.

Catalao laughed. "El Senor Doctor, he is not so accomplished with ice cream, eh?"

"No," Louisa agreed. "But he has… other" she blushed, "skills."

"Si! As I have said, without your medico skills, we would be…" Catalao stopped short.

"Yes? Go on?" Louisa urged him.

"Would be…"

Catalao slumped down in the chair and his head sank.

Louisa rolled her eyes at me and nodded to Catalao who was now the very figure of misery. "Something is wrong, isn't it?"

The man sighed and he started to wring his hands together. "Senor, perhaps we should retire to my office to discuss this important matter."

I caught Louisa's eye. "No. What you have to discuss with me, you may discuss with my wife as well."

"Thanks for that, Martin." Louisa licked at her ice cream. "Go on then, if you would."

"Ah, si." Catalao smiled briefly. "So you two," he clasped his hands together, "are like that, yes?"

I looked at my wife and she smiled bashfully. "Yes."

Catalao sighed once more. "So to the matter at hand. When you arrived and I saw how handsome you two were, the fine suit the doctor was wearing, the brilliant ring on the senora's hand… I thought here are two people of, how you say, _substance_."

I had a mouthful of the ice cream (and I agreed later with Louisa that it did not equal Cornish ice cream) and nearly choked on it when Catalao's next words came out.

"Yes…" he hissed. "People of substance. Yes… I was thinking, since you have had such a very nice time here at my resort, if you would be able to invest in the property? Say a million Euros or so? That would be ideal." Catalao beamed mightily. "Yes, very ideal."


	49. Chapter 49

Chapter 49 - Money

"Good God!" came from my mouth without any conscious thought followed by a "Rubbish!"

"Martin? Don't be rude to the man," whispered Louisa. "That is a lot of money though, isn't it?"

"About 800,000 pounds, I should think." I shook my head at the grinning Spaniard. "You must be joking."

"No, Senor. No joking! And you are quite right about the exchange rate! You stay on top of money, si?" Catalao ducked his head. "But perhaps I have out-stepped my bounds. Yes, an investment such as that…" he paused and wiped at his dripping face. "A lot of euros, yes?"

I curled my lip, as Catalao obviously had no idea who he was dealing with. I was on the minus side and that bothered me. As a surgeon, I should have amassed that amount in various properties and businesses. I turned my head slightly and caught Louisa's eye. She was biting at the corner of her mouth.

"A lot of money," she muttered.

"Yes," I sighed. Catalao sat nearly motionless, other than the rapid fluttering of his dark eyes, the steady stream of sweat down his face, and the slow twitching of his hands. I sensed that this was more than just a spur-of-the-moment offer.

"Perhaps you could consider 500,000?" Catalao went on. "I am very certain that you have many investments… this could be another!"

"Only 400,000 pounds then," replied Louisa.

"Si!" Catalao brightened. "But of course, you would wish to see proper documents - papers of the resort, and so forth - before you would make such an outlay!" He spread his arms and his smile brightened. "I could also offer the use of your bungalow whenever you would wish it! Or another if you so desired?" Now his voice had taken on a pleading tone.

"A lot of money," I repeated Louisa's words. Truth be told, the most valuable asset, in terms of cash, was my Lexus, a small handful of stocks, none of which was doing very well, and a cottage with leaky plumbing and windows that rattled when the wind blew. Not to mention the future possible income from my practice, as a GP, not as a surgeon.

Considering that some patients would prefer to pay in chickens or codfish, my savings were not auspicious on that front either. What with settling my Aunt Joan's many debts and selling my Kensington flat to keep my dear old dad from pressing his sister too hard to sell the farm, my coffers were, shall we say, low. Plus years out of surgery and medical retraining and the lower pay of a GP had hit my coffers quite hard.

Catalao's face fell once more. "Again, any amount would be useful," he went on. "Perhaps 100,000 euros? A paltry sum. If you wish my accountant could take that today, if you wish."

I pursed my lips. "We'll see." I stood and pitched the soggy remains of my half-eaten ice cream into a bin. "Now, if you don't mind…"

Catalao rose unsteadily with a half-hearted smile below his hair which had sprung askew. Now perspiration was absolutely pouring from the little man, as a shaky finger came up to tug at the collar of his white shirt above the black tie. "But of course. I detain you! How estupido of me!" He bowed once. "Please forgive my _enthusiasm_ for your investment."

He turned to walk away but his head twisted backwards. "Please consider how you may be able to…" he wiped at his face, "help me. Backing is always…" He brushed his hair back into its usual molded shape and he attempted to smile again but I now saw real tension around his eyes.

During the past few minutes I had seen Senor Catalao virtually melt before my eyes. He had gone from a forward and forceful resort manager, full of vigor, to the shaky wreck before me. "I'll consider it," I said.

Louisa looked at the two of us, shading her eyes. "Thank you Senor, for the offer. We'll discuss it."

He shifted his gaze to her and his face lit up. "My wife, she is just like you, Senora. She wants to be involved in every…" I saw his eyes go from her face to her bosom, his smile brightening, but his head lifted in alarm when a voice yelled out his name.

The voice was trailed by the little Scottish girl, Fiona Bruce, who absolutely forced Catalao backwards against a building pillar, her diminutive frame afire with anger as she came round the corner in a rush. "You bloody tosser!" she screamed. "You've been at the accounts again, haven't you! I had 350 euro in my payday account yesterday and now it's gone! All of it! What have you done this time? And I'm not the only one!"

Other voices were raised in anger as another five or six resort employees arrived in hot pursuit of their boss. Being only short of pitchforks, scythes, and flaming torches, they bore an amazing resemblance to villagers hunting for Frankenstein's monster.

Catalao turned his shocked face from the girl to mine and the tissues of his face went slack as he crumpled at the knees and crashed limply onto the concrete terrace.


	50. Chapter 50

Chapter 50 – A Job

Catalao lay motionless and limp on his back as I bent over him. His face was flushed; his breathing shallow and sweat trickled down his face soaking into his shirt. I loosened his collar and jammed two fingers into his neck to feel his pulse.

Bystanders heaped insults on the fallen man. "Tosser! Bastard! Thief!" were some of their less nasty comments. "Serves him right!"

"Shush!" I yelled at them. "Louisa, can you get this lot to back away?"

"Right! Move away, please, go on! That's it. And can someone please find Mark Mylow?" Louisa's teacher's voice quieted them. "Perhaps some ice as well?" She bent down by me. "Anything else? How about a call to emergency?"

His pulse was slow but speeding up. The man gasped and twitched slightly as his eyelids flickered. "Que? Mio Dios!" slipped from his lips.

"You have collapsed!" I told him. "And stay still" I added as Catalao tried to sit up. I was running my hand under his head and neck feeling for a lump or bump when someone held a wet cloth and a plastic bag of ice into my vision.

"Here you go, Doc!" It was Mylow. "Playing doctor again, eh?'

I curled my lip at the obvious dig. "He collapsed."

"None of my fellow employees attacked him? It _would_ serve him right you know." Mark sniffed. "He's been playing it very fast and loose with the accounts recently."

I ignored the financial comment and focused on the medical. "Let's get his feet onto a chair." Louisa snagged one and she and Mark wrestled his feet onto the cushion. "That should improve his blood pressure."

Catalao became more aware of his surroundings in the next few moments but his eyes rolled wildly for a minute until they stopped that motion. I waved a hand over his face and he followed the motion with both eyes. "Good," I grunted.

"Shall I?" Louisa held out the wet compress.

"Yes, forehead." I observed the man for a few seconds as he roused more. Bending close I peeled eyelids back and found his pupils to be reactive and normal. "No head injury, I think." The sun was hot, the concrete even more so, but Catalao's skin felt quite warm.

I considered the man. He had sprung up like a rocket, was confronted by his employees, then he had fallen a dead weight. "Has anyone seen Senor Catalao eat today?"

"No, but I saw him slurping down espresso the way he always does." That came from Alex the waitress who was at the back of the groups of disgruntled people. "Don't think he ever really eats…"

"Warm day, caffeine…" I muttered as I heard the approaching siren of the ambulance.

Mylow hefted the bag of ice. "What about…"

I pulled open Catalao's buttoned up jacket to find a long sleeve shirt, with a thick cotton undershirt beneath. The lowest garment was quite damp and smelly with perspiration. His hairy chest felt warm and was bright pink. "Let's put that ice right here. Have you a towel?"

The petite female bartender dropped a tea towel into my hands and I wrapped the ice in it, pushing the bulky package into intimate contact with his skin. Catalao gasped but his color improved rapidly. I patted his shoulder as he tried to move. "Lie there."

"Make way! Make way!" Alf came barging through the crowd. "Doc Martin! Another one down? Catalao is it?"

I ignored the man, who felt it necessary to lean over my back as he hissed into my ear. "Don't let him get away, Doctor! This one is slippery!"

"Leave off, will you?" I barked at him. "Mark can you make sure the ambulance arrives directly?" I'd heard the siren stop by reception.

Mylow directed the bartender in Spanish who rushed off.

"What you think, Martin?" Louisa asked.

Catalao struggled up onto his elbows and a belligerent snarl rose to his face. He started to shout at his employees, half in Spanish and half in English. The vehemence of his words astounded me and the English ones were worthy of a pub brawl.

Louisa winced as she crouched by me. "Ouch. Bit harsh."

Alf interrupted him and sneered down at the man. "Senor Luis Marco Philip Catalao!" He produced a leatherette wallet from somewhere and flipped it open, revealing a gleaming gold badge and an ID. "You are about to be arrested by Spanish authorities on a number of charges, including money laundering and human trafficking, plus a number of misdemeanors!"

Catalao ground to a halt. "No! No! Big mistake! You are wrong…" his voice failed as medics arrived with a gurney, accompanied by two uniformed police officers.

One officer already had his handcuffs out and moved forward to cuff the man. "Senor Catalao!" the rest was in rapid-fire Spanish and the unctuous manager fell back limply as the words struck home. He turned pleading eyes to mine and Louisa's. "No, I was only… trying to save the resort! The economy has made it very difficult…"

Alf Sheppard held out his badge and ID to the officers who smiled and one shook his hand. "Senor Sheppard! Gracias!"

"Por nada," said Alf as he smiled down at Catalao.

"Just a moment!" I shouted. "This man is _sick!_ Let's get the medical issues sorted shall we? He's obviously dehydrated and overheated. Plus being ambushed by disgruntled and _mean_ employees made his blood pressure drop! Have a care, would you?"

Catalao looked up at me as the medic placed a blood pressure cuff onto his arm and began to apply it. "Doctor Ellingham…" he swung his face to Louisa. "Senora Ellingham… I fear I have ruined your honeymoon! But I will make it up to you…"

"Oh, give it a rest, Luis!" Mylow shouted. "You've been ripping off guests, employers and your vendors for months! You can't weasel out of it now! Right boss?"

Alf Sheppard laughed. "That's right Mark! Glad you were here to keep an eye on things. Your participation was vital to catch this crook!" He stood and slapped Mark on the back. "Great collar! You nicked him and good!"

Louisa stared at Mylow with surprised eyes. "So I suppose you're still a policeman then?"

Mark squinted at us in his usual way. "Appears so."

Catalao sighed from the ground and shook his head sadly. "Mylow! I thought you were my amigo?"

Mark looked down at the man. "Nope. Just doing a job."

**Author's note:**

**International Criminal Police Organization INTERPOL – The organization organizes international police cooperation on public safety, terrorism, organized crime, drug trafficking, crimes against humanity, environmental crime, genocide, war crimes, piracy, illicit drug production, weapons smuggling, human trafficking, computer crime, money laundering, child pornography, white-collar crime, intellectual property crime and corruption.**


	51. Chapter 51

Chapter 51 - Mind

I returned my wine glass to the table.

"You like it?" Louisa asked.

"Yes." I picked up and knife and fork and returned to eating the grilled prawns, cooked with sautéed vegetables and a polenta-like starch.

"No… affects, then?" Her sparkling face smiled across the dinner table at me and the dress was another stunning expose of her flawless shoulders and arms and a good deal of her upper chest. Her hand played with the garnet necklace as she sat back, regarding me intently.

"No."

A slim hand came across the table and touched mine. "I have _plans_. For later."

I ducked my head yet felt the faintest of grins begin. "I'd… like that."

She smiled. "I'll try to make it so that you do. You _see_…"

"Doctor Ellingham! There you are!" She was interrupted by Alf and the extremely gravid Deirdre. Alf went on, "I've been looking for you two!"

"Oh?" I sighed and guardedly looked at the man. "What for?"

Alf pulled out a chair. "May we?"

Louisa answered, "Sure," then muttered "sorry, Martin."

Deirdre waddled round behind me and slumped down on the other chair. "My God, if I had known being preggers was this exhausting, I'd have thought twice about it!" She _oofed_ as she sat then fanned herself with a swollen hand. "Thank God we're going home soon. This heat is bad, isn't it?"

Louisa touched her hand. "Poor thing. It can be…" she glanced my way, "exhausting."

Alf toyed with our empty bread basket. "Your dinners been good?"

"Oh, yes," Louisa answered. "Haven't they?"

I nodded and carried on eating. I didn't want to speak to Alf or deal with his pregnant missus, or anyone else, for that matter. I wanted to enjoy the meal and the time with Louisa, alone. For all too soon, we would be leaving back to dreary old Portwenn; at least that's the way I used to think of it.

"What do you want?" I asked curtly. "You are interrupting our dinner."

Alf laughed. "Just wanted to fill you in is all." He steepled his hands together. "Luis Catalao has been skating on the thing edge of the ice for quite a while. Been stiffing vendors, long pay times, all that. You probably heard that nearly everyone who works here is a short timer. Either their first season or they've just been hired. Word got around with the locals that Catalao ought not to be trusted."

"So he _was_ stealing," Louisa stated.

"Not quite. You see…" his voice fell to a whisper, "his business partners… shall we say or less than savory. There are teams in Madrid, Sicily, and Morocco swooping down on them as we speak." His eyes swept the room. "Very hush-hush."

"So the man's a criminal?" Deirdre asked. "I told you I didn't like him."

Alf chuckled. "He didn't start out that way. Seems when the economy was booming down here he borrowed a lot of money to build the very building we are in - a new main resort building. Just so happens that the building cost quite a lot more than he anticipated and he started looking for new investors." He sniffed. "Those are the people that are being arrested."

"Ah," I grunted. "You do know he asked me for a million euro investment, don't you?"

Alf smiled. "I guess he was trying to cover a shortfall; buy himself back to respectability. No, didn't know that."

Louisa started. "So all this," a slim hand waved about. "Mafia backed?"

"Afraid so," Alf replied. "He got in deep with these sorts and _phuut_! It all went. He was the front man. Probably wasn't too bad at first, until they started to move loads of cash through the business to clean it up; dirty money. At least that's what we believe was going on."

"Poor man," said Louisa. "He did try hard, though. Rather like Bert, right Martin?"

"Who's Bert?" Deirdre asked.

"A plumber we know back home," I answered.

"Oh? Mob money?" Alf leaned forward with interest.

"Loan shark. Our constable put that right." I caught Louisa's eye, sending her a silent message not to belabor Bert Large and his travails.

"What do you think will happen to Catalao?" Louisa asked with genuine concern. "I hate to think anything too severe would happen to the man."

Alf laughed. "He's been singing like a songbird since they shoved him into the back of the ambulance; names, mobile numbers, locations." He scratched his neck. "Probably have to give him a new identity when this is over. His partners in crime will not be very friendly when this is all over."

Louisa nodded. "So, not that bad; that what you're saying?"

"No, considering."

"You mentioned human trafficking?" I threw out.

"There is that as well. At INTERPOL we do keep track."

"I noticed your badge," I said.

"Yes. I am. Have you noticed that so many of the workers here don't speak Spanish? That's part of it. There was a linkage with a crime den in Egypt and Macedonia, right here, and a lot of the kids shuffled through here ended up…" he cleared his throat. "Better not say too much. But near as we can tell Catalao put his foot down and put an end to that in January of this year."

"And Mylow? We were extremely surprised to see him here." I asked. "Last I knew he was in Bournemouth."

Alf nodded. "We were casting about for someone to get inside and Mark Mylow was the man."

Louisa brightened. "But he wasn't really a policeman, was he? Thought he left that behind."

"Not quite," Alf grunted. "More of a field agent. Made a few calls time to time, that sort of thing."

I nodded. "I see." Deirdre squirmed and fanned herself. "So your trip here was unplanned, I take it?"

"Yeah," Alf ducked his head. "I thought this whole thing would break a lot later, so we started a family, but Catalao started running out of money, legit money, pretty quickly. Had to nab him before he flew the coop."

"Of dear," said Louisa. "He did it to save his business, though. Not that I'm defending him, you understand. Maybe he was trying to change, get clean. Changed his mind."

Sheppard laughed. "I understand. There was something appealing about the man, though. I think he could charm the ears off a snake. But it did surprise the hell out of me when Mylow got indications that Catalao was trying to pay back his old backers."

"Snakes don't have ears, as we think of them, Alf. They're completely internal." I knew my biology.

"Oh, I see." Alf sat back. "Didn't know that."

Hearing a grunt from Deirdre I faced her. "You alright?"

"Sure, sure. Just, uncomfortable, is all." Deirdre reached back for the chair arms and levering herself upright spoke out. "Come on Alf, my man! You've been ignoring me for days. At least take for a walk on the beach before we go home."

Alf ducked his head. "Right. Thanks again you two. And the docs at the hospital say Catalao was both dehydrated and over-heated." He fanned his face. "This country is too bloody hot for me."

Alf trailed after his wife and I could see the affectionate way he took her hand as they left the restaurant.

"There they go," chuckled Louisa. "Looks to me like all's well that ends well."

"Yeah." I sighed. "Do you wish for dessert?"

The waiter swept away our plates and brought out my usual espresso.

Louisa leaned forward. "There is the flaming mango thing I saw on the special board. Interested?"

"Louisa! You know that I routinely refuse dessert."

She recoiled. "Oh… well, it sounded interesting," she pouted.

The waiter returned and presented the dessert menu. I waved the man off. "Duo especiales, por favor."

"Si! Immediamente!" The man smiled and left.

"You just said you didn't eat dessert, Martin."

"Maybe I changed my mind."

"Oh?" She smiled. "Well aren't you full of surprises?"


	52. Chapter 52

Chapter 52 - The Stars

The flaming mangoes, although too slathered with honey and whipped cream to be called healthy anymore were good. Too much so as I felt a headache start behind one eye, but that might have been just as much due to the wine I had imbibed as they fact we had to leave at noon tomorrow for the airport. I finished my espresso while Louisa polished off her dessert.

"That was good," she sighed. She leaned forward and brushed a hand down my arm. "Hard to believe we have to head home tomorrow.

"Yeah. Peachy."

"I know, but it will be wonderful to see James." Her face was tinged with happiness on top of sadness.

I sighed. "Yes. Ruth said he's babbling more?"

Louisa brightened. "Say's he's spraying everything in sight with all sorts of sounds."

"Precocious, then. Most babies don't start that until they are six months or so."

She laughed. "Must be from all those medical journals you've read to him."

"Or you with the talking fire engine," I grunted.

"No matter the cause, we'll take it."

I nodded as the waiter came and brought the bill. I signed the slip with a flourish and pushed back my chair. "Ready?"

"Yes." She gathered her hand bag and light wrap. "Now, I have something…"

"Oh?" My heart sped up as for the past few days, this usually meant the obvious. I couldn't say that I hated our recent romantic encounters. Whether these would continue with the frequency of the last few days was doubtful, but still the memories would last.

She took my arm. "Now, let's go to the beach. I want to show you something."

I pursed my lips and tried not to smile. Two waiters were standing by the wait station with silly grins, as they surveyed Louisa's body, and I saw one nudge the other and say something, no doubt of a sexual nature. True Portwenn's head teacher was something to behold tonight in the way her dress swished back and forth and draped over her derriere. With a will I swung my mind away from Eros and glared at the two young men.

"Buenos noches, senora, Doctor," one said all grinning teeth and winking eye.

I grunted at him as we passed.

"Something wrong, Martin?" Louisa asked as she took my arm.

"No." I guided her outside. "The beach, you said? What is it?"

She nodded. "Just follow." She led me down the path to the beach and onto the sand which shifted under my feet.

"We'll get sand in our shoes," I protested. "You know I hate that."

"Come on, anyway." We plodded along for a few minutes, away from the lights of the resort.

"Where are we going? We need to pack, you know."

Further protests of mine were stifled as Louisa came close and threw her arms around me kissing my lips. I gave her as good as I got, pulling her to me and I felt her breasts start to go firm as we kissed for more than mere moments. She broke away with a will after a minute or so. "Martin…"

"Yes?" my hand was pulling her waist into mine and her pelvis ground into my groin.

"Martin? I want you to…" she whispered.

"Yes?" I felt my knees begin to buckle at the thought of her, and knew this was not quite an appropriate behavior for the two of us; not in public, even though we were in the darkness between two palm trees.

She kissed me tenderly. "Look up."

"What?"

"Look up, at the sky. Look at those stars, Martin."

The sky was dark and moonless, with clouds building in the east, but the Milky Way was visible as a band of light across the heavens.

"We never see that much at home, do we?"

"No." I tried to pick out constellations, but there were too many stars to find the easy patterns.

"You said you once were punished for waking your father in the middle of the night to see a comet, didn't you?" Her hand brushed my neck and rubbed it gently.

"Yes. That did happen."

She sighed. "One of the women at the pool said something about taking her kids out to see the stars on the beach. I thought that you'd like it."

I looked hard at lost constellations and swirling motes of light in the galaxy. "I do." I gulped. "We must take James out on clear nights to see this sort of thing. Hate to think he'd grow up staring at the world through the screen of the telly or a computer." I could see lanes of dust blocking the light of distant stars. "Awesome."

"I knew you'd like it."

"When I was bad, my father would give me a slap with a belt or a table tennis bat…" I stammered. "That night… the night of the comet… was no different. He was angry I had woken him at three AM." I turned my head from her.

Louisa softly put a hand on my cheek and turned my eyes back to hers. "Ah, well, I'll not beat you tonight, Martin." She drew my head down and we touched foreheads. We stayed there for some time.

The freshening breeze blew up a bit and I saw cloud-to-cloud lightning on the horizon. I cast a last look at the stars, now being blocked by a high level haze. "That's a storm heading in. We'd better…"

"Yeah," she said as she hugged me. "Looks like rain."

A few drops drifted down. "And soon."

000

We got back to the bungalow before the rain started in earnest. This time it was thunder, lightning, and driving sheets of rain.

I was folding a suit and packing it away when Louisa came from the bathroom wearing her diaphanous nightgown. She twirled about. "Like it?"

Now how was I to answer that? My heart started to pound and my hand shook as I tucked the suit coat into my case. Of course, I liked… not the nightgown… rather the person that was _wearing it. _"Of course," I muttered and looked away, feeling a surge of lust that embarrassed me as I felt the usual physiological reaction. "No! That's wrong!"

"What?" Louisa said, startled. "You don't then?"

I was trying to control myself, so I sat on the bed, my clothing arrayed in ranks and columns next to me. "No… I do. That is… I like you wearing it."

She smiled. "I'd hoped so." She pulled her hair free from the clip at the back and going to the dressing mirror began to brush it.

The gown was long, slit up one thigh, no sleeves, barely a top, and it was nearly invisible, which it did become when the light was behind it. I didn't understand women's clothing. That is I understood the theory of how a deep neckline or the way a skirt was cut could be made to both reveal or to conceal - all part of the mating dance. The garment she was nearly wearing did that and more. The back of mind imagined her flesh under that garment, even though there was little hidden to imagine.

"I don't understand it," I said. "Why wear that at all when the odds are that in a few minutes you won't be wearing it? And besides, we're married. Not like you have to seduce me, is it?"

Louisa turned from the mirror, an angry hand on her hip. "Martin, I'm wearing it for you, you know," she said crossly.

I crossed my legs to hide my too obvious male reaction to the sight of her. "Louisa… I appreciate that, but…"

"And, Doctor, have you figured out that when a woman is dressing for the man she loves that makes her desirable to herself?"

That bit of human sexuality I decided to let pass. "We need to pack. We must be in the taxi at noon sharp."

She sighed. "You go right ahead and pack then. Don't mind me." She flounced to the sofa and plopped down. "I'll just lie over here and read my book." She flipped on her e-reader and scanned it and I saw that she had one leg crossed over the other and the foot was wiggling in obvious irritation.

I'd clearly fouled up once more. "You are mad at me."

"No Martin," she said but there was ice in her words. She sighed. "But why do you have to ruin things sometimes?"

That was a question for the ages.

000

I had finished packing most of my things, at least the unused, dirty, or unneeded items for tomorrow's journey. I used the loo, shaved my face and brushed my teeth. I entered the bedroom fearing what I might be facing.

The lights were off, Louisa an indistinct lump in the bed. She was turned away from the bathroom on her left side, obviously asleep or simulating that state. I eased down under the top sheet and lay on my back for a few seconds in the darkness. I hated it when we went to bed like this! Too many nights acting like total strangers, as if we were forced to share a bed when the inn had no other rooms… I sighed at the thought of all the anger we had harbored, and perhaps still did, since a very pregnant Louisa had returned to Portwenn. Even after James Henry was born and we lived together, or tried to, I could count on one hand the number of times that we'd been - _acceptable_ - to one other in the three months from his birth; that is until we married after the Mrs. T incident.

Remembered anger lost out so I rolled onto my left side and I softly put a hand on her back. "Louisa, I am sorry. I'm…" I needed this woman in more ways than mere biology could explain. "I am…"

"An idiot," she murmured.

"Yes, I am."

She reached back and taking my hand pulled me close to her back. "Cuddle, ok?" She clutched at my hand mechanically.

"I am sorry, Louisa, I get… confused… at times."

She clasped my hand and swept it up under her lovely breasts as she swung her leg over mine. Her bum was pushed against my hips and she sighed deeply.

She didn't answer while I spoke more inane, yet factual words. "Sometimes I don't understand what's expected, or needed. I try, but I'm totally at sea… every now and then… lost without a clue… and I don't want to be lost out there. I really don't!"

Louisa lay motionless for some time, then curled her foot around my calf, and shifting the grip of her hand to one that cradled it, held it against her right breast and stroked my hand soothingly. "Martin," she whispered, "make love with me? Won't you?"

So in that dark room while thunder boomed, rain flooded from the skies, and lightning flashed, Louisa and I moved together in that ancient rhythm. I was correct - the lacy garment was soon thrown to the floor, my pyjama bottoms had been stripped off, and we made love to, no, _with_ each other.

Our sibilant sounds increased in rhythm and volume, and fortunately there was no hotel room or bungalow just next door or there likely would have been a pounding on our wall to tell us to 'keep it down in there you two!' That phantom voice, thankfully, did not shout out as our joint passion built to the glorious summit.

She kissed my face over and over, pulling me into her. "Martin! Martin!"

"Louisa… Louisa…" I repeated. "I love you!"

She crushed me against her in our fervor and at the last I saw _the stars._


	53. Chapter 53

Chapter 53 - And the Lights Went Out

Warm skin and smooth fragrant hair penetrated my senses while a soft voice breathed in my ear. Slim arms and soft hands were draped over me while I returned the embrace. I don't know how long we lay like that, not complaining, but after a while I felt quite warm. That's when I realized the ceiling fan must be turned off. I flapped the damp top sheet and Louis stirred.

"It is warm," she whispered.

I rose from the bed and flipped the switch repeatedly to no affect. "Hm."

"Problem?" muttered Louisa.

"Fan's packed up."

"The clock's gone as well."

Louisa was right as the red LED of the bedside clock was dark. All other lamps were without power. "The power's gone."

"Oh?" Louisa sat up and pulled the sheet across herself. She reached for the telephone and listened to the handset. "Phone is out as well."

Lightning flashed outside the draped windows. "Must be the storm."

"Nothing we can do about it, is there?"

I shook my head automatically. "I have the alarm set in my mobile."

"So come back to bed?" I could see her pat the mattress while lightning flashed.

I went to bedside, checked my mobile and saw the time was 12:37. "After midnight."

She sighed.

"Problem?"

"Nope."

I got back into bed. "There must be something wrong, from the way you sighed."

Louisa put her arms around me and buried her face in my chest. "I just…"

"Just what?"

"Not sure that I want to go back."

"We have to go back. You know that. Besides, we can't very well leave James with his great-aunt, can we?"

"I know," she said, slightly petulantly. After a few seconds, she said "Has this been fun, for you? Seems like every time we turned around there was some medical emergency and you had to swing into action."

"I couldn't very well ignore them could I?"

I saw her shake her head. "No. But I think they'll miss us… after we leave."

I sneered into the dimness. "I doubt that Catalao will miss us."

"I wasn't thinking about him. That little Italian boy, Ermano was it?"

I squeezed her. "You're the one who pulled him out of the surf."

"But you gave him CPR."

I nodded. "We worked together."

Louisa snuggled against me even closer than she had been. "Just like at the Castle." She stretched and kissed me. "We need to do that more."

"Go to the Castle?"

"No," she sighed. "Work together."

What she said rang true. "Yes. We can… we should."

"I think we've done quite well this week, don't you?"

I thought back over this week. My wariness around Louisa had decreased, I was reading her body language far better, even though I had to snatch victory from defeat with a midnight run for flowers, champagne, and candy, but I had managed to hold back my anger, at least verbally.

"You've been brilliant, Martin. You really have," she went on. "I'm quite glad I brought you along."

"Oh, really?" I grabbed her bum and she squealed.

"Martin! Was that called for?"

I leaned my head against hers. "Yes. And thank you for everything."

"Well, don't think you can just go around squeezing my arse whenever you want! People will talk!"

I turned my head and looked about the dimness around us. "I don't actually see anyone else around, do you?" I gave her another squeeze.

She laughed. "My God!"

"What? What's wrong?"

She'd thrown her hand to her mouth. "I had no idea that you would ever…"

"What? Louisa, whatever are you speaking of?"

She laughed. "I had wondered if miracles were possible. But it does seem… that things have…" she cleared her throat.

"What things?" Now I was getting annoyed. "Would you please speak plainly?"

She snuggled into my chest, her breasts and firm nipples pushed against my chest. "Martin."

"What? Can you explain…" It was getting hard for cogent thought as she pulled me closer.

She answered my exasperation with a kiss on the lips. "A bloody miracle, Martin."

"What?"

"I knew that somewhere under that stuffy suit was someone I could love. And here you are. I knew it."

"What in God's name are you saying?"

Her hands started to stroke my back, then my waist, then ran down my thigh. "Right here; here you are."

"Louisa… I really don't understand what you are saying or what you want."

She laughed. "Oh Martin. I swear at times you were raised on the planet Mars."

I tried to resist her advances, at least my brain did, while physiology and her proximity, began to affect my body. "Uh, Louisa… it is getting late… or early."

"Martin," she whispered. "Plenty of time until the morning." Her hands kept moving and I guessed the inevitable result.

"We do need sleep, you know," I replied but next said. "We can always sleep on the plane, I suppose."

"Yeah… That's what I was thinking," she purred. "Now about the other thing. You made a joke. At least what passes for a joke from Martin Ellingham."

"I did?" Now I was running a hand down her back.

"And you've changed, you really have."

"Oh?"

"Yes, Martin, you have, and I have as well."

"But we're not… perfect, though."

"No, we're not done changing. Take my word for it. I'll change and you'll change, and we'll change together. That ok?"

Those few words spoke volumes. Hadn't I changed from a surgeon to a GP and from single to married? I was a father as well, something I had no idea would ever happen when my haemophobia drove me to Cornwall.

"Yeah." I held my wife in my arms and kissed her on the mouth. "Perfect enough." I smiled and doubted she saw it, but she probably felt it as I rubbed her back while she laughed.

000

Sometime later, a breathless and sweaty Louisa rolled off of me. "God Martin, that was…"

Whether what she was about to say was that I'd sent her to heaven or to hell, I had to wait to find out, for just then there came a pounding on our bungalow door.

"What in hell?" I shouted.

"Oh, my God! Who is it?" hissed Louisa.

The pounding continued as I sprang from the bed, threw on a dressing gown, and stumbled across the room to the door, wincing from driving my great toe into a chair leg on the way. Hopping about on my good foot, I peered through the peephole viewer set into the door. Someone was huddled outside in the pouring rain, banging on the door once more.

"Doc?" I recognized the voice as Alf Sheppard. "I need help!"

"Martin?" called Louisa from the bed.

"Shush!" I hissed at her.

Alf hit the door, with both fists. "Doc? It's the wife! I think the baby's coming! Doc!"

My head rocked backward and I stared at the ceiling. "Hell."


	54. Chapter 54

Chapter 54 - A Cry in the Dark

"Doc! Thank God!" A sodden Alf sagged against the doorframe while Louisa burrowed under the sheets to hide. His eyes peered into the darkness in the general direction of the bed. "Sorry. Really am. But Deirdre…" A bolt of lightning lit the sky and I heard Louisa screech as the man's eyes widened as no doubt, he got a perfect view of the female crouching there. "Lord, Doc, that is one beauty…"

"Has her water broken?" I interrupted.

"Yeah!" Alf's face was strained and white as the lightning flashed. "You are one lucky man, doc." He sucked in his breath. "My word…"

"When did her water break?"

"Not sure 'cause she was in the loo. Then she started to pant and yell. Tried to call but the phones went along with the power!"

"When was this?" I asked the man who was edging further inside to escape the rain.

"About an hour?" Once more Alf's head turned to peer into our bungalow and he craned his head about to catch another glimpse where Louisa lay doggo under the damp sheets.

That tore it, so I grabbed his arm and pushed him backwards. "Look! You have to quit looking at my wife's, uhm… that is my wife, erh… Just stop it!"

"Sorry, Doc. I…" he blew a wolf whistle and winked at me. "Lucky man you are!"

"Let's go see about your wife, shall we?"

"Right."

"What's your room?"

"Uhm, just down the way, Doc. Number twenty. Can you hurry?"

"Fine. Be there shortly."

"But, Doc, what should I do until you get there?"

"The baby will not be coming in the next few minutes, so trot your fat body back to your room, and I'll be there as soon as I throw on some clothes." I pushed the peeping Tom out and slammed the door. "Good Christ."

I sagged against the door and caught some air. "Louisa?"

The lump under the covers shifted. "Is he gone?"

I ripped off my robe and pulled on the pants and trousers I had laid out for the morning. "Gone but not forgotten, I'm afraid!" I hopped about on one foot pulling on socks. "Damn it!"

"Martin, I never heard you curse about a patient before." She rose from the bed, like Venus from the waves, and rummaged about in her case, pulling out underwear.

"I had hoped to get some sleep, Louisa!" I peered at my wife as she bustled about. "Where do you think that you're going?"

She stepped into a pair of shorts and stuffed her head and arms through a blouse. "I'm coming with you."

"No you're not."

"Yes, I am! I am a mum, I have given birth in case you forgot, and you and I helped Isobel when she had her little boy on the village headland!" She pulled her flowing locks into a rough bunch, popped a hair tie onto it and faced me. "Right, let's go!"

I looked her up and down in the dim room. "You forgot something, haven't you?"

"No, don't think so."

"Oh?" I pointed at the floor. "Shoes." I knelt and pulled on my trainers.

She pushed her delicious toes into a pair of flat shoes. "Ready and they even match."

I ducked into one of the open-necked shirts that Louisa had bought the other day, and held the door for my past helper. "As you wish." I had thrown a raincoat over our heads and we trudged through the dripping night to the bungalow were the miracle of birth was trying to happen.

000

Deirdre lay on the bed panting and grunting. I rapidly ascertained that she was indeed in full labor. "I thought you said this child was due in eight weeks?"

The laboring woman looked at me through a tear stained face. "Well, Alf kept saying that we should wait…" she held his hand grimly. "To get preggers, that is, but maybe I didn't use protection once or twice."

Alf patted her hand. "It's alright, luv."

"But Alf I been lying to you! I knew all along! I thought the baby would wait for a few more days!"

I groaned as my suspicions were confirmed. "So you're nearly full term?" I took her pulse and it was rapid but not unduly so. I palpated her abdomen and felt the fetal head well engaged in her pelvis. "We may not have much time."

"About eight months." She said. "You was sayin' that you needed to finish this case and I so wanted to come along. Never been to Spain afore."

I shook my head. "So you lied and have endangered your child and yourself!"

"Martin!" spoke Louisa sharply. "Don't yell at her. Nothing to be done about it now."

"Swell. Just bloody perfect," I muttered half under my breath. Alf had pressed his face against his wife's and was blubbering away. "You!"

"What?" Alf replied his mouth muffled by her hair.

"Run yourself over to the main resort and find help. There must be an emergency radio or something that works. Use that over fluent Spanish of yours and rustle up some help. An ambulance and medical technicians might not be a bad thing. I suspect they know the way here, considering the number of times they've been called this week." I clapped my hands. "Come on man, get to it!"

Alf kissed his wife, murmured praises on her and departed into the storm. "Now, Deirdre, you may feel pressure…" I told the laboring woman who was now grunting once more.

"How much Doc? I didn't finish my childbirth classes and I'm not much of a reader, have a stack of those baby books back home… Never even opened them." She took a deep breath and bore down.

Louisa caught my eye as she turned her mobile to flashlight mode to light up the scene. She reached out and brushed at the woman's damp hair. "Deirdre, dear. I've done this, and so have most of the women on the planet. We're going to help you have your baby, if it comes to that." Louisa caught my eye. "Are you going to help out Doctor or are you going to stand there looking bad-tempered and grumpy?"

I sighed. "Right." I washed my hands in the loo and returning with a stack of clean towels, began to drape the bed. The sky was now black with rain the lightning suppressed.

Deirdre moaned loudly and repeatedly and in rather short order, I was catching a rather large and red-faced baby girl who started to cry and as I caught the look on Louisa's face, saw she was sobbing right along with the baby and her mother, the scene lit by the fading light of a mobile phone.


	55. Chapter 55

Chapter 55 – Boy and Man

The long suffering medical people arrived at the resort, scooped up mother and baby, and tucking the father under their wing departed. I stood there stupidly holding a 100 euro note that Alf had pressed into my hand.

Louisa plucked the bill from my hand and held it up to a room light, which had miraculously just come on. "Looks alright to me. You don't; suppose Catalao was in to funny money do you?"

I surveyed the wreckage of the bed and room, where the planet had just accepted another passenger. "Probably not."

Louisa looked around. "A bit better than a pub."

I could only nod so Louisa took my hand as she yawned. "What time is it?"

My wrist watch which showed 1:30. "Middle of the night." We walked to the door and closed it behind us. "You were crying." The rain had stopped and the clouds were blowing off.

"Yes I was."

"Why? Not like you've never seen a baby born."

"Oh Martin." She squeezed my arm. "Because. Just because."

I knew better than to delve into the female, and a mum's psyche, just at that moment and kept my lips sealed.

"No snarky comments about female hormones; any of that?" she chuckled.

"Females cry more than males. That has been my observation."

"You may be right, but you should see my school. At times my boys can be quite… well, less than stoic."

"True. But as boys get older, the rational brain becomes more refined and…"

She cut me off. "Reserved? Aloof? Reticent? Or just afraid to show emotion."

"Social traditions of Western cultures assume that too much emotional response is a sign of weakness in the male of the species."

"Ah, yes. But when you were a boy? Did you?"

A phantom spot on my right shoulder began to throb, the target of too many punches from my tormentors at boarding school. "Did I what?" It was obvious what she was asking, but I ignored the question.

"You know. Cry? Sorry, I'm prying." She bit her lip and looked away nervously.

I sighed. "What do you think?"

"Tonight, you were a stick of rock – and I don't mean the candy. I mean the honest to goodness rock - granite. The hard stuff - straight through. You're a good man to have handy." She kissed my cheek. "And I don't care about all that when you were a boy. It's the man I care about."

"Good to hear," I muttered and squeezed her hand. "Now you are making an assumption, Louisa. I wasn't that, uhm, strong, as a boy, I was…"

Cool fingers touched my lips. "No. Stop. I don't care. But I am so proud of you. My God you could have blown up at any moment this whole trip but you didn't. The medical emergencies, the panics, my own – ahem, _needs_ – you never complained; not really. I was worried you know."

I sensed that she was not saying she was disappointed; quite the opposite. "Worried."

"Yeah, I was. But not now. I'm quite proud of you, you know."

I guided her to our door and opened it. "Home away from home, eh?"

"Yeah," she sighed. "Well so much for sleep." She crossed to her case and stuffed fallen items back into it.

"We weren't exactly… sleeping … when Alf came banging on our door."

She smiled brilliantly. "I remember." A strand of hair straggled down her face which she brushed away. "I do."

Her look made me feel like I was on fire and in spite of my fatigue, unbelievably felt certain physiological functions started to be affected such as pulse, blood pressure, the sensation of certain organs, and my mouth felt dry. "I do too."

She sighed. "So what do we do now?"

"Clean up, pack; wait for the dawn."

Louisa brushed at her hair with raked fingers. "Don't know about you but I could do with a wash up."

"Right."

Louisa picked up her lacy nightgown from the floor where it had been flung in our passions. She yawned and rubbed my shoulder in passing, raising her face to kiss me. "Good old Doc Martin. Stick of rock that you are."

I watched her waltz to the loo, pausing in the doorway. "Martin?" she asked.

"Yes?" I sighed wondering what I would have to do next, thinking of the mess made of carefully packed clothing as I wondered if I had any suitable clothing for the flight home, a stay in London, and an hours long train trip to Portwenn. I looked up to see Louisa bite at her lip. "What's wrong?"

She flashed the awesome smile at me again. "Nothing."

She ducked inside and I heard water running as I bent to sort out my case. I began to fold my wrinkled clothing. All was well, until I heard a scream from the bathroom.

"Louisa?" I yelled as I rushed in her aide. Louisa was stripped down to her underthings and was perched on the toilet seat, mouth agape, pointing to the counter surface. "What the devil?"

"It's a… a…" she gasped, "A bug!" Little screeches uttered from her lips and those keened forth in a rising pitch.

The offending insect was multi-legged, one of the _Blattella germanica_, known as the German cockroach. The creature skittered back and forth under the light as I tried to corral the thing with a wad of loo tissue.

"Martin! Don't squish the poor thing! Catch it and let it go!"

"It's vermin, Louisa! You want me to release it? It's not a bloody pet, is it?"

"Just… just… do it!" She had by now clutched a towel to her chest and was hopping from foot to foot. "Please?!"

I ducked my head. "Anything for milady." I touched a non-existent cap and managed to scoop the insect into a tissue cone, then flung it out the window. I banged the panes closed. "There."

Louisa looked about warily then started hiccupping. "Sorry, Martin. Hic, hic!" She gulped and wiped an eye. "I get hiccups… hic… hic!"

"Try holding your breath." I washed my hands then helped Louisa down from the toilet lid. Her hiccupping slowed and with a few gulps vanished into the night. "Better?"

"Yeah. A lot better." Louisa touched my arm. "Sorry about the… uhm… bug."

"Common cockroach. Well known in subtropical climes."

Louisa crouched down and surveyed the floor. "Ugh, I hate those things."

"Seems to be gone."

"But…" she threw her arms about me. "You're still here."

"Where else might I be?"

"Oh, London or the Isle of White; God knows."

"But I'm not in any of those places, am I?" I returned her hug. "I'm… here, for you."

Louisa beamed up at me. "And James."

"Of course."

"You know there was a day that Peter Cronk asked me if I loved you."

"What did you tell the boy?"

"I didn't."

"You didn't."

She kissed me soundly.

"I'm a bit confused, you know," I told her.

"Oh, Martin. I know… me too."

I stared down at her, her face shining in the bright lights. "I thought you were going to wash."

"Yes. Yes, I was - I am." She kissed me deliciously. "More fun together, right?"

I could only nod as her strong arms swept me into her embrace.


	56. Chapter 56

Chapter 56 - Thoughts of Home

Clean up, repack, and wait for the dawn is just what happened, sort of. Louisa was content enough to curl up on the bed and relax while stroking my hand until she fell asleep.

As she snored gently, I was forced to recall the night of our engagement - the first time. She dragged me up to her bed after eating a wretched takeaway fish and chip dinner. Joy Cronk and Peter had moved on to Newquay and the new takeaway shop owner, a young man named Noel Carpenter, had not quite mastered the simple method of frying cod or potatoes. Fortunately Louisa had the makings of a decent salad which augmented the so-called entrée.

After our requisite love making that night (I did not complain and I don't recall Louisa complaining either) she snored away while I spooned against her back. I had feared that our first actual sexual encounter would be another disaster on a par with our other dismal adventures. Yet Louisa was keen and I am happy to say that she seemed to be quite satisfied, or was an excellent actress. I would never tell her that compared to Edith Montgomery, Louisa was a quite agreeable partner. When with Edith I always felt like a gigolo, or worse, marching to her commands. Touch me here and touch me there… and so forth. Degrading.

But Louisa was not a demanding person, if fact she seemed to be content to follow my lead, until we got married that is. At that point it may be best to say that she seemed to be trying to set some sort of Olympic record if such a thing existed. Not that I was complaining.

Thoughts of the crooked path we had taken to get that far raced through my head while I gloried at the miracle that had brought the head teacher into my arms. It was a cry of desperation that made me blurt out my wedding proposal, yet it worked.

I wished that I could have erased the tortuous next year, yet here we were together despite it. Or perhaps was it because of it? Did we have to descend into the depths of despair to make the changes necessary so we could be together?

Louisa snored again and pulled my arm tightly to her chest, swinging a foot up my leg. "Martin…" she murmured.

"Hm?"

She did not answer, only snored heavily and squeezed my hand. I inhaled the fragrance of her hair, skin, and deodorant and closed my eyes. "Joan would be amazed," I whispered into the night. Chalk and cheese indeed! I tried to relax and let sleep creep up on me reveling at the warm body pressed to mine.

000

The mobile starting buzzing and I unwound myself from Louisa.

"Martin?"

"Morning."

"Is that a call?"

"Alarm."

"Oh, thank God." She yawned and stretched. "Did you sleep?"

I sighed. "Briefly."

"Busy night." She ran a hand down my chest as I lay there while her cool foot scraped up and down my leg.

"Louisa! You're not thinking…"

She guffawed. "No! Do you think I'm some sort of succubus? That it?" She rolled onto her side and hugged me. "Do you think that?"

"No, I…" I cleared my throat searching for words. "I have been… surprised, is all."

"Just surprised?" She recoiled with an astonished look. "Not pleased?" A look of major disappointment sprang to her face.

"No! No! I have been…" My mind went into full lockup, as I did not want to hurt her. "Been…"

Louisa peered up at me and chuckled. "You haven't complained though." A pointed fingernail scratched down my chest.

"Louisa… I…"

"Cat got your tongue, that it?"

I sighed. "No, I just don't want to get into a rubbish conversation is all. You know that I can't always say things…" I sighed again. "Things that sound… very civilized."

"Oh, I don't know. I think you can be quite… interesting in your own way."

"Interesting."

"Right."

"Course there are times that you can… be rather…"

"I'm rude, awkward, too… medical," I admitted.

She leaned over and kissed me. "We'll work on it. But you can be useful too."

The mobile alarm buzzed. "Time to get up."

"Yeah back to the grind. Back home." She yawned.

Home. Portwenn was home. "Yeah, home," I said and found myself smiling.


	57. Chapter 57

Chapter 57 - Worry?

We breakfasted in the café, dining on some sort of pastry with an orange sugary filling and small firm oranges. I washed it all down with espresso, while Louisa had tea.

She sighed looking at the palms overhead. "I will miss this." Leaning over to me she took my hand. "All of it."

"I'm…" her face fell as I hesitated. "Glad as well. Truly."

Louisa's smile came up. "I do like your clothes."

"You bought them." Wearing short pants felt distinctly odd and the white shirt with beige and blue bands across the chest was not what I would choose to wear. I wiggled my feet in the trainers. "I feel like a freak."

"Oh, no! I think you look very handsome." Louisa chuckled. "You're not a freak - not even close."

I harrumphed and brushed crumbs from the shirt.

Louisa leaned closer. "I did say some time back that I would like to see you out of that suit…" Her pink lips parted and she licked them. "Guess I got my wish, wouldn't you say?" She brushed her hand along my bare arm.

I tried to withdraw my hand but she folded her fingers into mine. "Okay."

"What? You never wished? Not even on a star?"

"No." I felt uncomfortable saying it.

"Not ever?"

How to answer that? I'd feel a fool if I answered truthfully. Should I tell my wife that I had wished and fervently and the object of my wishing was her? "Perhaps…" I stopped myself, took a deep inhalation and opened my mouth gauging how to explain. "Possibly, I did… just once or twice…"

"Oh?" Louisa smiled hugely. "So Doctor Ellingham has wished, in his whole life, just a time or two?"

"Uhm, well you see, wish fulfillment…" suddenly the sun felt extra hot, "desires or wishes… can also be interpreted as…" I gulped, "needs…"

Further discussion was interrupted by a large meaty hand clapped me on the back driving all the air from my lungs. "Doc! Here you are! And Louisa as well! My God I've been looking hither and yon for you two!"

I looked up to see the florid face of Alf Sheppard beaming down at both of us. He crushed me into his beefy arms then turned his attentions to Louisa who nearly went purple as the man rumpled her. Her eyes bulged out in alarm as Alf squeezed her to his chest. "Have a care there!" I shouted.

"Sorry!" laughed the man. "Just so happy! So bloody happy! Deirdre and the baby are fine. Just perfect thanks to you two! We'd have been tits up, but for you!" He released Louisa then sagged into a chair and rubbed his whiskered face. "The doc at the hospital said you done a fine job; a fine job."

"Oh," interrupted Louisa, "we were glad to help out." She smiled at Alf. "Shame you had to have your baby in a hotel, in a thunderstorm… attended by a GP and a head teacher." Her voice fell. "Still better than a pub…" Her teeth clamped at her lower lip. "Still," she smiled once more, "as long as the mother and babe are fine."

"Thanks," yawned Alf. "Sorry. Been up for too many hours."

"You need rest Alf. Go to bed," I said.

"Yeah," mumbled Alf. "Now… if I can only convince Deirdre to come up with different names for the kid, you know? She kept going on and on. 'Should it be Louisa or Martine?' she kept sayin'. Like to drove me bonkers." He slapped his knees and stood up. "I'm for the rack. Night or good mornin'."

Alf stumbled away as I sat stunned and Louisa stifled a laugh. "Martine?"

"Perfectly good name… I… suppose." I stammered. "But Louisa seems… so much prettier… for a girl."

"Thank you Martin. That is sweet." Louisa brushed a loose strand of hair back over her ear. She took my hand again and held it tenderly. "I will miss this, you know."

"Palm trees don't grow very well in Cornwall, unless we would move to Falmouth."

"That's not what I meant."

"Oh. Well what did you mean?" I bristled.

She looked down then away, and turning now moist eyes to face appeared to be crying.

"Louisa? Whatever is the matter?"

A slim finger wiped at each eye. "This has been wonderful; really wonderful Martin. And I thank you for it. But…"

"But?" Now I was concerned about her posture, the downcast look on her face, the tear glistening in each eye. "Louisa, I…"

She held up a hand and I stopped muttering. Louisa gulped then took a deep breath. "Martin. I want to say that has been a lovely dream. All of it. And I thank you. I really do." Her nervous lip sprang between her teeth and she sighed. "But when we get to Portwenn…"

"Yes, we'll go home. That's the plan."

"But then what?"

"We'll be home, in Portwenn of course."

"Yes… but what about us?"

"What about us?" I shook my head. "I'm sorry, I'm really confused. Whatever are you talking about?"

She dropped my hand and hugged herself, her bare arms and legs, now slightly tanned, contrasting with her orange tank top and black crop pants. She sniffed and wagged her pretty head. "It's all been a lovely dream, you know."

"Ah. So you think this has been all a dream. Some sort of telly science fiction fantasy, that it?" I bristled. "Let me assure you that I do not deal in fantasy. My life is all about facts. Cold hard facts, Louisa. I have based my life on dealing with facts."

Louisa looked quite hard at my face. "Oh. Right."

"So why do you think this is a dream?"

Louisa waved her fingers. "Right. Well I thought that back home, in the village, we might not…" Her eyes slid to the side once more. "Might not be… as…"

"Close? That it?"

The set of her jaw told volumes as a single tear ran down her cheek. I have seen Louisa Glasson act like this before. This was the worried and fretting Louisa. "Close," she said softly.

"So you think that this has all been acting, on my part? My God Louisa, I can't believe you'd think that! Acting?"

Her head hung miserably.

That rocked me back in my seat. "So you think that I've… been... going through the motions?"

She nodded.

"But…" My mouth was ready to say more when another voice shouted across the café.

"Doc, Louiser! There you are!"

"Oh, God," I groaned as Mark and Julie Mylow hove into sight.


	58. Chapter 58

Chapter 58 – Definite

"What?" Louisa whipped her head about then dropped her face into her hands. "Just when I thought we could have an honest to goodness talk…" she nearly sobbed.

Mark rushed over before I could respond to Louisa's distress. "Doc! I mean Martin, here you are! I thought we'd missed you!"

"Yeah," added Julie happily. "We thought we might give you two a lift to the airport! Least we could do for fellow Portwennians! I got my neighbor to watch our kiddies." She glanced from my angry face to Louisa's upset one. "Oh dear. Mark, we have barged in where we're definitely _not_ wanted."

Mark squinted at us. "Something's wrong, then. Even I can tell that."

"Yes… _yes_, there is," I told them in cold tones.

Louisa lifted stricken eyes to mine, obviously afraid of what I might say.

I breathed deeply and let the air flow out my noise in a rush. "What is wrong is that _every time_ Louisa and I wish, or worse, absolutely NEED to have a quiet and heartfelt conversation it is people _like you_ that butt in!" I shouted and saw Julie and Mark cower under my words and icy stare.

"Now…" I directed them in a hiss, "we certainly appreciate your good intentions, and we _may_ take you up on the offer, however…"

Louisa had now cocked her head to one side and her mouth had fallen open waiting for my next words.

"What we need is some privacy! Can the two of you back off and go somewhere for five or ten minutes while I speak to my wife?" I stood and glared at them. "For we have to settle something once and for all without a bunch of rubberneckers putting their noses in! NOW! Buzz off both of you!" I flung out an arm with a pointed finger. "Go! Over there!" I clapped my hands for emphasis. "Move it!"

Julie took her husband by the arm and tugged at him. "We'll just be by the pool," she said meekly. "Come Marky. These two need some space."

Mark stumbled after her and I heard him mutter, "Lord. I never thought the Doc had it in him."

After silence fell over our tete a tete I slumped down into my chair while trying to compose myself, yet the words _bloody idiots_ did escape.

Louisa stared at me for a moment. "I'm siding with Mark. I didn't think that you had it in you, either."

"Louisa, don't you think that I have been far too remised," I cleared my throat, "in allowing that lot to intrude whenever they bloody well feel like it?" I sighed. "I am sorry I exploded like that. But I…"

"No."

"What?"

"No. Don't apologize. Not to me. I agree."

"Right. Now… about the uhm… dream thing." Another sigh rose as my throat felt tight. "Louisa, I cannot imagine that you actually think that I was going through the motions this week. My Lord, woman! I've never…" I had to pause for air to collect myself. This moment, I felt, was another of our cliff edge experiences. We'd either run away screaming from each other or jump over the edge.

Louisa started a bit. "Go on."

I closed my eyes for strength. "Louisa… I'm rubbish at these sorts of things."

"I know you are."

"But… I have to say that there is _nowhere_… I would _rather_ have been… than _with_ you." I shook my head. "I… can't conceive of _ever_ being…"

She took my hand. "Go on," her soft voice urged, eyes now fixed on mine. "Don't stop."

There was a roaring in my ears and it wasn't the sea pounding the shore or the wind in the palm fronds overhead. My body felt flushed and tears stung my eyes. "I have to be… _with_ you… _near_ you." My hand shook as I reached out to touch her. "I sincerely hope that you were _not_ going through the motions as you say, for if you have been, you have been an _amazingly_ good actress."

She grasped my hand desperately.

I blurted out, "For I _do_ love you and I _will_ love you in spite of it." I relaxed. "No dream, Louisa. Not a bloody dream."

"I've never…" she bit at her lip, "ever heard…"

"I know, it's a horrible, inelegant, dreadful and _sickeningly_ sweet thing to say to you, but I don't know any other way to say it."

Louisa stared at me. "Oh, it wasn't that bad. I mean, it could use a bit of polishing. But it will do."

I sat there stupidly holding her cool hand in my sweaty one. What had she just said? What did it mean? "So… you're saying?"

She came out of her chair and towered over me. "Martin, stand up."

I did as I was told and towered over her.

She grabbed me about the waist. "My mum and dad, they would have been throwing crockery by now, those two. And from the hints you have given me, your two would have not been any better."

"Worse." I stared down at her warily. "What are you trying to say?"

"I… I'm saying," she said haltingly. "That I've been afraid… that you didn't mean it, that you were humoring me; jollying me along. And if that was the case… I'd not be able to bear it. Not a bit," she almost sobbed right then. "But you're not like Danny Steel and I'm not like Edith Montgomery. I'd not want to change _you_ in _any way_ that you didn't want to be changed. Or worse, couldn't be."

I pursed my lips. "But I _have_ changed."

"Yeah. I see that. Why?"

"Why?"

"Because I want to, Louisa! That's the most direct way to say it. Louisa, I hope that you understand that at times, I may be…"

She grinned. "Rude, grumpy, and impolite."

"Right. Can't be totally agreeable, now can I? People will talk."

She smiled. "They wouldn't know who you were. And I know that I can be… uhm… temperamental, difficult…"

"Moody," I added. "A worrier as well. Insecure."

She laughed. "I think Martin, that there is an awful lot that we need to work on; both of us."

"Aunt Joan claimed that we were chalk and cheese. Yet… here we are."

"Martin," Louisa stretched up and kissed my lips. "Joan was _wrong_."

I smiled down at her. "And I haven't been acting."

Louisa pressed against me and blubbered a little into my shirt and I knew it would leave a stain. "Louisa, I…" my hands awkwardly patted her back.

"I know. Me too." Her words were muffled. "Roger Fenn said something to me about a gravel road. He was right. Been a few washouts and potholes haven't there?"

I wasn't certain what road works had to do with us but I nodded.

"You'll have to keep…" she cleared her throat, "convincing me… that this is right – the right road. That is, when I'm not sure."

"Are you unsure about me? Or unsure of yourself?"

"My mum and dad didn't exactly teach me how people should be with one another." She squinted up at me, with a hint of a smile. "Both sometimes – the unsure part."

"We'll sort it."

She laughed. "That sounds like Bert Large. I guess you have learned a little from him, haven't you?"

I wrinkled my nose. "Don't you _ever_ say that within earshot of Portwenn's infamous plumber."

"Right," she laughed. "You'd never hear the end of it."

"No." I gazed down at my wife. "So are we sorted, for the moment?"

She cocked her head and the brilliant morning sunshine light up her face. "Definitely."

"Good. That's good."

"Yeah. So what about that ride to the airport? Might as well."

I bent and kissed her cheek then taking her hand, we walked towards Julie and Mark.


	59. Chapter 59

Chapter 59 – Leave-taking

Julie and Mark looked up at us as they sat and watched a lazy teenager at a snail's pace clean the pool with a vacuum device.

"Doc! I mean Martin," Mark exclaimed, "sorry about butting in back there. You had every right to…"

Louisa silenced him with a wave then she looked at me with a faint smile. "We're sorted. Mostly."

"Oh that _is_ good," grinned Julie. "Really good. I knew that Doctor Ellingham was a man of high principals." She coughed slightly. "Experienced that first hand, now didn't I?"

I nodded but stayed silent, as the memory of her revelation to me that she was intending to foist her developing fetus off on a man who was not the child's father still rankled. I looked at the woman and realized that her observation was merely factual; not judgmental.

Mark put his arm around his wife. "So then… can we give you a lift to the airport?"

Louisa gripped my hand securely. "Of course. That would be fine, wouldn't it Martin?"

"Yes. Better than the maniac taxi drivers in this town," I mumbled.

Mark smiled in agreement. "Yah, that they are. But I… well… I usually… drive a lot more slowly than they do." He ducked his head. "Pays to be safe."

"That's good, Mark." Louisa said as she looked at me. "Martin and I will be just a few minutes to gather our things, if that's alright."

Mark squinted at the two of us in the bright sun. "Sure, sure. We hope you've had a good time here!"

We walked away from the pair and Mark shouted out another question. "Maybe you'll come back; do you reckon?"

000

I was brushing my teeth when Louisa repeated the question. "Did you, uhm, did we? Have a good time, that is?"

I expectorated used toothpaste, rinsed my mouth, and dried my lips. "I think so. Did you?" I was facing the mirror over the sink and I saw her slightly concerned expression relax.

"Yes, Martin," she said brightly. "I really did."

I nodded. "That's good. I mean that. Uhm… have you been happy? Did I make you…"

Louisa put her arms around my back. "Martin… I…" she bit her lip.

"What?"

She sighed. "Go on, then. Ask it."

This was the question I had been dreading to have answered. _Did I make you happy? _

Mr. Porter had planted that question in my head as I knelt behind his sick sow on the panicked afternoon of our non-wedding. The nasty aroma of the muck from the pig pen flooded my brain which provided the proper mood for that entire disastrous day. Louisa and I had _not_ gotten married that day. I had wondered that if we knew she was already pregnant, would we have gone through with it? fate had other ideas, however.

I sucked in oxygen, nitrogen, and trace gases, set my throat and made words come out. "Louisa?"

"Yes, Martin?" Her clear eyes met mine with only a trace of fear.

"Do I, that is… have I made you happy these past few days?"

She chuckled. "You mean you didn't know? I'd have thought my… energetic… _responses_… ahem…" Her eyes slid away then came back to mine. "Oh Martin, you _silly_ man. Martin," she said seriously, with a hint of a grin on her face, "you _have_ made me happy. You do and you have. I hope that you are as happy with me as I am with you."

The bubble of fear wafted away on the soft sigh I let escape. Louisa must have felt the tension relax in my back through her hands as she tightened her grip. "That's…" I stared at her shining face. "Good. Very good…" That wasn't right. "No!" I blurted out.

Louisa's eyes flew wide. "What?"

"Not _good_." I turned to face her directly. "It's been _wonderful_. I mean it."

Louisa hugged me. "That's fine, Martin. Really… really…" She pulled my head down to hers and kissed my mouth.

The _old_ Martin Ellingham, the gruff, rude, and terrible person that I had been, made an abrupt departure from inside my head without a word or a backward glance. Good riddance to that _tosser_ I reflected. I'd not miss the man.

Louisa ran a hand through my hair. "Julie and Mark are waiting, you know."

I checked the time then grinned at her. "Let them wait."


	60. Chapter 60

Chapter 60 - Reckoning

Coming up for air, Louisa pressed her cheek to mine. "Martin, our friends _are_ waiting. As nice as this is…"

"Right." I released her and retrieved my toiletries bag then followed her out of the bathroom. Jamming the thing into my suitcase, I tried to straighten my rumpled suits. "The cleaner will have the Devil's own time cleaning these, what with plane travel, perspiration, folding and re-folding; they're not fit to wear."

Louisa patted my back. "They'll come clean."

I cocked my head. "Yes, I know they will."

"Then why the fuss?"

I sighed, knowing she was right. I was particular about my clothing, too much so. The fact I disliked the clothing I was wearing was proof of that. "Right." The last time I wore trainers must have been in boarding school, and that was for field day or gymnasium.

The cases were snapped closed and I moved them to the door ready to go. Hearing the slithering of fabric, I turned to see Louisa making the king-size bed. "Whatever are you doing?"

"Don't want to leave a mess."

"But they will change the bedding, I certainly hope, for the next guests."

She tugged the duvet into place. "Still." She smoothed the cover. "There, all tidy."

I stared at her for a few seconds.

"Something wrong, is it?"

"No."

"There must be, Martin, or you'd not say _no_ like that."

"I was only recognizing that you don't like things to be messy."

"Oh," she said with surprise. "Suppose that is true."

I recalled the nearly complete and utter chaos of Mr. Routledge's cottage that she had taken when the old man was moved into care. Yet she had swamped the hovel out, with Aunt Joan's extensive help, _and_ made it very presentable. "I should have helped... when you took the other cottage."

Louisa sighed. "I didn't want you to. Not that I couldn't have used the help."

"Yes." I shook my head. "But… I should have… helped you out. I should have… given you money, or…" I had to stop.

Louisa took my arm. "But I wouldn't let you, would I? Didn't Julie Mylow tell us not to, uhm, go there?" she sighed.

I sighed. "Yes. I find it hard to admit that we're taking the advice of…"

"No, Martin. Just stop right there."

"Right."

Louisa turned her head to scan the room. "Time to go."

"Yes."

Louisa took my hand. "We should go then."

"Got everything?"

She hugged me tightly for a moment. "Yes." She looked up at me brightly. "Oh yes."

I opened the door, set the cases outside the door, and closed it behind us as we walked to the reception area.

000

Mark and Julie were rather quiet as Mark drove sedately on the throughway to the airport. From time to time Julie turned and seeing us holding hands, would smile briefly, then look away.

Louisa rolled her eyes at me before speaking. "So… it is very nice of you to come see us off. The ride as well."

"Strangers in a strange land, eh? We wanted to see you, say goodbye, and so on." Mark said as he had to brake sharply to avoid a motorcycle that shot between his tiny car and a lorry. "Almost been like old times, hasn't it?" He squinted at me in the rear view mirror. Julie had offered that she and Louisa would ride in the back, but Louisa insisted on me jamming myself into the tiny rear seat. With my wife's warm thigh and knee pressed against mine, and her fingers rubbing my hand it seemed a prelude, or perhaps a memory, of other sensual encounters.

This was the thing that I had learned about Louisa. She needed and craved contact, skin to skin, and the more extensive the better. The Ellingham's were not touchy-feely people and I could recall very few times that my mum or dad actually touched me, other than in anger. When Aunt Joan would hug me unrestrainedly, it was all I could do to put an arm about her and incline my head. Yet with my wife… I turned and saw her moist lips, bright eyes, shining teeth, and felt warm and smooth skin of her leg and hand… I felt… what did I feel?

God! I felt a strange sensation, one I had only recently encountered. I was happy, _actually_ happy, and as Louisa's hand stroked my fingers I felt the most wondrous thing as a smile came to my face.

"Doc? I mean Martin? You look like the canary that ate the cat!" Milo was examining me in the rear view mirror.

Louisa laughed. "That is quite an expression, Mark!" Her hand tightened on mine.

Considering what Louisa had enticed me to do the previous evening it was surprisingly on the mark… "Ahem! If you are implying…" I squirmed as the words came from me.

Julie laughed aloud and was echoed by her husband.

"What's so funny?" I asked grumpily.

"Martin," hissed Louisa, "don't be all weird, is all. Just go with the flow, right?"

That drew more chuckles from the front seat.

"I have… ahem… had a wonderful time, you all should know!" I exclaimed. "And so has Louisa! I fail to see what is so funny!"

Julie tapped Mark on the shoulder and he stopped laughing. "Sorry, Doc. Just seeing you and Louisa together, married and all, things are different. I reckon that Spain has had an effect on you."

Louisa met my eyes as I turned to face her. This was nearly just what Mylow had said to me years ago.

The bodmin former policeman had got it exactly right. He had reckoned properly. "Yeah. Yeah, Mark, it has," I told him, but not with rancor or anger.

Louisa stroked my hand. "Right."


	61. Chapter 61

Chapter 61 - Cuckoo

Mark's two-door car successfully battled lorries, buses, and taxis, ultimately wedging itself to the kerb at the departure building where the carriageway was chock-a-block with vehicles. "Here we are then!" Mark exclaimed. "I thought I'd need a police escort to get through the jam back there!" He checked his watch. "Plenty of time then."

Julie looked up at the policemen patrolling in front of the building. "Mark, I don't think that we sit here very long." She opened the door. "Best be shoving you out. Sorry."

"That's alright," said Louisa brightly. "Thanks so much for this! We appreciate it, don't we Martin?"

I was trying to free myself from the confining clutches of the car as she spoke. "Yes…" I struggled past the seatbelt at the door opening. "Saved us…" I almost tripped getting from the compact car, but Julie steadied me.

"There you are, Doctor Ellingham. Wouldn't do to have you injured, now would it?" Julie said, but I heard her mutter, "Not that some wouldn't love to see it happen."

"Those taxis! Yes!" interrupted Louisa, probably thinking I might launch into an expose on her less than blissful trip in Tommy's Taxi. "They can be rather…"

"Horrid," I threw out and gave Julie a hard stare, who returned it forcefully, yet with a bit of a grin.

"Aye," she nodded. "Horrid."

Mark opened the tiny boot and extracted our cases, plopping them onto the pavement. "There, Doc! I Mean, Martin. I guess I'll never get over that will I? The name thing, uhm… old habits die hard, don't they?"

Louisa unfolded herself gracefully from the car and I took her hand. "No Mark. That's not quite right," I said to him, "as not all habits have to be permanent."

Mark looked Louisa and me up and down then broke into a broad grin. "I can see that, Doc. I surely can." He nodded at our entwined fingers. "Like that."

Julie threw an arm about Louisa's shoulders. "I am sooo happy for you two. And after all this time! I always thought there was something between you two!" She bussed Louisa's cheek. "Took you a lot longer than Mark and me, but all's right in the end!"

Just then the tender moment was broken by a transport policeman approaching and from his waving and guttural shouts it was obvious he was telling us emphatically to bugger off. I sighed. "We'd better go."

I was turning to pick up the cases, when Mylow suddenly lunged forward, threw his arms about me and hugged me fiercely. "Doc. Been so good to see you. If you two hadn't been at the resort, well, a disaster might have fallen! Real lucky to have you there. The kid falling at the pool, then the same one almost drowned…" he gulped and I swear I saw a tear in his eye. "But you and Louisa saved the day."

"Ah, just…" I tried to scrape the man from me as the Spanish policeman glared at me. "It's not my fault!" I answered the airport cop's stare. "He won't let me go!"

The cop shifted his belligerent look to one of laughter, then winking, walking off.

"No!" I shouted to his retreating back. "It's…" I glanced down at the adoring look on Mark's face. "God, Mylow! Let me go!"

Mylow reluctantly released me. "Just saying…" he sniffled, "that if not for you…"

Julie stepped into the fray. "It's alright now. No harm done."

Mark shook his head to clear it, for he started to smile. "Aye. I guess maybe the Portwenn has worked it's magic on both of you." He put an arm about Julie. "It did for us, now didn't it?'

Louisa nodded. "I can see that. Speaking of the resort, what about Senor Catalao and all the issues with the place?"

"Oh, yeah, I suppose you haven't heard." Mark squinted at us. "Alf Sheppard told me the famous Spanish turnaround expert, Gomez de Risquet is coming over. He's been on holiday in America studying Apache casinos in Oklahoma, wherever that is. Seems he's got some sure-fire ideas to turn El Grande Blanco Resort around."

"Erh… fine," I said.

"Brilliant!" added Louisa. "So you'll still have a job, then?"

Mark nodded. "Yup. Seems so. And just in time too, you see…"

"See? See what?" I blurted out.

Mark drew a huge breath. "Well, didn't want to spill the beans, nothing like that, but with, uhm… well, with Julie…" He turned to face his wife. "Should we..."

"Yes, Mark," laughed Julie. "What my stammering husband is trying to say is that we're expecting! I'm pregnant!"

"Ohh!" Louisa shouted and threw her arms about Julie. "Congratulations!"

Mark stood there grinning ear to ear and I know my mouth must have fallen open. Julie's eyes twinkled at me over Louisa's shoulder as she mouthed the words, _Mark __**is**__ the father_, so that only I could see it.

"Isn't that wonderful, Martin?" asked Louisa.

I looked from Mark to Julie and then to Louisa.

"Well, Doc? Whatcha' think?" asked Mark happily.

"I…ermm, uhm…" was all that came out.

"Martin?" Louisa asked once more.

Julie Mylow smiled her chameleon smile. "We're all happy. That's what matters."

Based on previous encounters with this woman, I was reminded of the European cuckoo that lays its eggs in other birds' nests to be reared. "Well fine," I said. "That's fine."

Julie smiled brightly at Mark in the hot Spanish sunlight as she pulled him close with an arm about his waist. "Yes, isn't it?"

My mouth started to open, but I wisely closed it before any sound came out.

**Author's notes:**

**The French composer Joseph-Maurice Ravel (1837 - 1937) had a group of close friends that called themselves the Apaches. When they felt the composer was beset by groupies, they would excuse themselves, taking Ravel in tow and explaining to the interloper that they had received an invitation to have drinks with "the famous Spaniard Gomez de Risquet, and what a pity that you too are not invited."**

**I needed a name and read that anecdote in the notes at a concert. : ) **


	62. Chapter 62

Chapter 62 - Nice

A resonant thump signaled the folding and stowing of the aircraft landing gear and with a rush of acceleration pushing us both back and down into our seats, we left sunny Spain behind.

Louisa made a small noise in her throat.

"Problem?" I asked.

"No," she sighed as she held my hand tightly. "But we didn't visit any of the museums or art galleries in Barcelona. And I did want to see the Sagrada Familia, Gaudi's work."

"There are other cathedrals, you know."

"Still, quite a sight from the photos I've seen."

"But we may go back… someday."

She set her head against my shoulder. "I think James would enjoy the beach."

"As long as they have decent lifeguards, unlike that lot." I jerked my head at the resort some distance below and behind us.

"But you would be there."

I nodded. "Yes." The aircraft banked left and I caught a last glimpse of the coast as we turned north. "I would."

Shortly the seatbelt light went out and a garbled announcement was made about being able to move about the cabin. Many immediately unbuckled and a few started to rush to the loos. I found it ridiculous that so many could not take care of that before takeoff. Of course part of my reluctance was due to my large frame barely fitting into such a tiny cubicle as well personal concerns about hygiene, or lack of, in such a communal space. I also kept my seat belt tightly fastened as a matter of course, as the tiniest bit of turbulence could fling passengers about.

About the time that the flight attendants started to push overpriced drinks and tiny unrefrigerated sandwiches, Louisa excused herself and squeezing herself across my legs went aft to use those very facilities. "Be sure to wash your hands," I told her.

She smiled down at me and walked away with ponytail swishing, bosom bouncing and long legs moving in a way that made my pulse race. An older man across the aisle twisted his head about and watched her as well. "Watch it!" I commanded. "That's my wife!"

"Lucky you," he sniffed, but faced forward.

The plane rattled and shook, then leveled out as we reached cruising speed. I relaxed slightly as I knew that altitude meant safety; time for the pilots to react. In less than three hours we'd be on the ground in Heathrow, the first leg of our journey done. Tomorrow afternoon Aunt Ruth would pick us up at Bodmin Station for the hour's ride back to Portwenn. Our vacation would be over, and I'd be sneezed on by patients with blossoming flu, sprained ankles, aching tummies, and the usual health nonsense of the village. Louisa would be back at the school and we'd be juggling the household chores, and James' needs. James, yes James. A smile plastered itself onto my face for James our little son was waiting for us. I'd put up with clouds of sneezing and coughing to see him once more. I even was looking forward to seeing Ruth. She was stiff and a bit stuck up, quite the opposite of her more emotional younger sister, yet I was looking forward to seeing her tall frame and angular face.

"You're happy, I can see that," said the man across the way.

An automatic sneer sprang to my lips, prepared to tell him off again. Yet his face smiling above a clerical collar, which I'd not noticed, made me stifle my retort. "Sorry Vicar."

"That's alright, my boy. You've been on holiday, I can see that."

"Yes," I said with finality and turned my attention to my medical journal.

"You're a doctor," the vicar stated.

I sighed. "What is it with you people? Can't I ever get any rest?" I muttered but the man heard me.

"Is there a problem, my boy?"

I sighed. "No," I lied.

"From your reaction, I imagined that you must get bothered quite a bit. People asking for free medical advice, that sort of thing." He affected a stuffy voice. "So, doc, about this mole…" He laughed.

"Yes… exactly." I relaxed feeling that the vicar was no threat, yet I was still wary of him, given my history with the profession.

Louisa returned just then. "Hello! Making friends, Martin? I'm Louisa."

"Hello. I'm Mr. Evans; Roscoe Evans." He sniffed. "I've got a little place down in Dover, mostly retired, you know."

"This is my husband, Doctor Ellingham." Louisa told him brightly. "We're heading home to Portwenn, in Cornwall."

The vicar nodded. "That's near Tintagel, isn't it? I recall stopping in Newquay a few years back; just down the road. Pleasant place."

"We think so," chuckled Louisa as she sat down.

"A very pleasant spot, I recall. Not so sunny this time of year; winter's coming on soon, I'd think."

Louisa took my hand. "Doesn't matter that much to us, does it?"

I felt her fingers playing with mine. "Perhaps not."

The vicar laughed. "You've had a nice holiday, then."

Louisa gazed up at me apparently waiting for me to answer.

My fingers squeezed her hand. "Quite… nice," I mumbled.


	63. Chapter 63

Chapter 63 - Advice

Mr. Evans pursed his lips. "Seems to me that you've been on a honeymoon. That it?" He stared across the narrow aisle at us, yet not unkindly. "I'm right. The clasped hands, the smiling, and so on."

Louisa chuckled. "We have and you are, right that is."

Evans winked. "I can tell, always can. With all the couples I've married and counseled, I've got the eye." He sighed. "Some don't get on, but… you two." He clapped his hands and sighed. "Yes, a honeymoon."

I wrinkled my nose for I felt the man was venturing where he should not go.

"And you've known each other a long time, is that right?"

"We have… we have," answered Louisa. "Not always been on the same page, though." Her voice lowered a bit, "but, we … have been… that is…"

I nudged her leg and gave her a quick warning look for I did not want any armchair advice form a stranger.

"Uhm… we're sorted." Louisa amended. "Together now."

Mr. Evans nodded sagely. "But you have been rump over teakettle, if you pardon the phrase."

I glanced at Louisa. "You're right. Unfortunately."

Evans relaxed. "I see. Well, it won't be all hearts and flowers, anyway. But listen to me, doddering old fool that I am. You know all what I'm telling you. But these young people," his head tipped to the giggly couple behind his seat, "they may not have all their ducks in a row," he said softly as he leaned across the aisle. "They think everything will be fun and games - all the time."

Louisa glanced at me. "But that's not realistic, is it?"

"No. At the first sign of an argument or money troubles they run from one another, hiss and fight, instead of calmly sitting down and working it out. I expect you know that." The vicar smiled. "But that's what I like about older," he coughed, "mature couples. They have some sense."

I was nearly astounded. "Some?" I started to bristle at the man.

"And then if children come," he laughed, "the young ones get all messed about. Pulled from a couple to parenthood some can't quite make the shift. Know what I mean? And the questions! They never stop! How to raise their offspring, where to live, where the kids will go to school and so forth."

Louisa looked at me. "It's rather what we have been discussing about our little boy; just last week."

"Ah…" Evans said his eyes twinkling with happiness. "You have a son."

"Yes," I answered proudly. "His name is James Henry."

"Fine name. So you have a few things to settle yet, then." He smiled. "Have courage though. You'll bull through!"

If Mr. Evans had anymore comments to make or advice to give that ended as further discourse was stopped by abrupt from the cabin speakers. "Excuse me, ladies and gentlemen. This is the lead flight attendant. The captain has asked that if there is a physician onboard, please identify yourself to a flight crew member." The voice was tinny and the volume warbled up and down but the woman's voice was clear enough.

"God," I groaned. "Now what?" Yet all the same I reached up and pressed the attendant call button.

"Oh Martin." Louisa said. "You don't get any rest do you?"


	64. Chapter 64

Chapter 64 – Trapped!

In no time at all a flight attendant, a somewhat tall and thin dark-haired man, arrived and asked, "Which one of you is a doctor?"

"I'm Doctor Ellingham," I told him.

The man visibly relaxed. "Thank God. This may sound a bit odd to ask for your help, but we have a situation…"

I unsnapped my seatbelt. "Lead on."

Louisa snatched at my hand. "Martin, if you need anything, ask."

I nodded down at her then followed the young man to the front of the cabin. I could see another flight attendant standing at the forward lavatory door, as a man and a woman stood by wringing their hands.

"You must do something!" the man was saying.

"And quickly!" the young woman by his side added, looking rather scared. "Poor thing! Sweetie, hold on!"

"Sir," the female flight attendant said, "we're doing everything we can." She stuck her head into the open door of the lavatory. "Help _is_ on the way."

I announced my presence with a terse, "What seems to be the problem?" I wrinkled my nose at the stench from the loo as the smell of airplane blue sanitizing liquid began assailing my nostrils. Newer aircraft had replaced their toilets and used less water, but this one was an older model and the staining and viscous fluid was always repellent to my nose. Trying to lean into the closet sized room, I head a high-pitched human whine superimposed on a higher frequency whistle.

"He's stuck!" said the man.

I tried to crane my head about the too many heads in the way. "What do you mean stuck?"

"His hand…" the woman said. "Do something! Bobby's hand must be hurting terribly!"

I managed to get a glimpse into the small cubicle where a boy of about eight was facing away from us, that is towards the toilet. He was on hands and knees, his left hand plunged into the fixture, with his right hand braced against the cabin wall.

"Mummy!" The child cried. "I can't get my hand out!" The kid turned his head about showing me a white face streaked with tears and nasal discharge. "It won't let go! And it hurts! Make it stop!"

I tried to get further into the small space but the people I assumed were the child's parents were blocking my path. The flight attendant half inside the loo did not help either. I bristled at them. "Can all of you please back up so I can assess the situation?"

Reluctantly they slightly withdrew so I got a better look. The child looked panicky, his face white and sweaty.

"His hand's jammed inside the toilet." The mother threw out.

I rolled my eyes. "I can see that. You're his mother?"

"Yes. Yes. His name is Bobby. He had to use the loo so he went; we're just sitting right there, five rows back in first-class. And when he didn't come back…"

The father started screeching just then. "We have to get some tools, a spanner, a fire axe, something! Smash the thing to bits to get his hand out!" The man pulled at me and his wife trying to reach into the cubical. "Robert! Don't panic! We'll get you out!" He turned woe-stricken eyes towards mine. "Don't just stand there, you bloody fool! You're a doctor! Do something!"

"I'm a doctor, not a pipe fitter! And I'm no fool!" I shouted back. His wife opened her mouth adding to the din and I followed with, "Both of you now shush!"

I turned to their child. "I am Dr. Ellingham," I told the boy calmly. "Can you wiggle your fingers?"

A tiny voice spoke in the sudden silence. "Yes… just. Can you get me out?"

"Whatever were you doing putting your hand into the commode?" The boy started crying once more, which set his parents off as well.

"Perhaps the pilots can divert the aircraft," suggested the male flight attendant. "Paris perhaps?"

"Or a return to Barcelona," added the other. "Or Madrid!" She snapped her fingers. "Yes. That might be better! Get a mechanic to take the thing apart!"

I crossed my arms in anger. "And land the plane with the boy stuck there; no seatbelt? Daft idea. Any turbulence and he'd be tossed about like a rag doll."

My comment set the mother to crying once more and the flight attendants arguing with each other.

"What we need is a _plumber_…" said a soft voice into my ear. It was Louisa. "Thought you might need some help." Her teeth bit at her lip. "That right?"

"It's not like we needed an _emergency_ teacher, is it?" I hissed back at her. "Oh _right_. _You_ know how. The head teacher knows." Irritated, I blustered at her. "_Do tell_."

Louisa looked annoyed but then laughed into my face. "Well, from what I heard… ahem. I do have _some_ experience with such things. If you'll only let me explain…"

**Author's note: Thanks to my friend and trusty reader Bodmin for the excellent suggestion… :)**


	65. Chapter 65

Chapter 65 – Suction

Louisa looked up at me, her eyes almost twinkling. "Let me help?"

"Do you think you can?" I sighed.

She nodded. "Yup, I do."

I held out a hand towards the loo. "Try your hand at it."

"Thanks," she said softly. "Hi!" she addressed the distraught parents. "I'm Louisa Glasson, I mean… Ellingham, just been married a short time…" She cleared her throat. "May I speak to your son?"

"Oh? Are you a plumber or an aircraft mechanic?" queried the father.

That startled the boy's mum. "Pish! She just wants to help. Don't be that way. She just wants to help, is all." She addressed Louisa next. "If you think you can."

"Might be able to. I am a teacher, our village's head teacher, if you must know," she said softly. "And I do have experience with children, obviously."

I stood to the side, arms crossed over the silly casual shirt that Louisa insisted I wear. The father turned questioning eyes to me. "She is, a head teacher, that is," I said to him.

The man harrumphed. "Go ahead."

Louisa smiled. "Thank you." She bent down on one knee and put her brunette head into the confined space. "Hello there. I'm Louisa. What's your name?"

"Bobby," said the boy. "Bobby Spencer."

"How old are you Bobby?"

"I'm almost nine… well I will be in another four months and nine days." He sniffled. "Can you get my hand loose? I don't like it in here. I thought it was really keen; a flying loo; but I'm stuck and I just…"

Louisa softly put a hand on the boy's elbow, just briefly, I saw. "There. It's alright. I'm here, and a doctor, he's my husband, and your mum and dad, and the flight crew. We're all trying to figure out how to get your hand free. You're left handed, is that right?"

"Yeah," said the boy, but his mum interrupted.

"He was born left handed, but we do think it is necessary that he switch. We've been sending Bobby to a behavioral therapist to have him switch his handedness. We do discourage it when he uses his left." The woman spoke in a hectoring tone. "Most of the world is right handed, and we think it would be so much better if…"

"Shush!" I erupted. "I have never heard such a load of baseless codswallop! Handedness is hardwired at the base level of the brain! You've likely been upsetting the boy and confusing his brain! He's as likely to be able to swap which hand he writes or eats with at this stage as being able to fly to the moon by arm! What is WRONG with you? What imbecile came up with this brilliant idea?"

The mum rolled her eyes at me. "I'll have you know, DOCTOR, that it is possible! We are members of a psychology study group and…"

That set Louisa off where she crouched on the floor. "Shut up! Both of you!" She shook her head at us. "If you don't have anything productive to say, just zip it! Right?"

The child's father cleared his throat. "We were only…"

"Shush!" I added and it worked.

Louisa looked up at me. Her lips made the words _thank you _then turned her attention to the trapped boy. "Now, back to you Bobby. You are left handed."

"How'd you know that?" the boy nodded.

"Well, your left hand is in this old toilet, stuck there. Now what _were_ you doing?"

The kid tried to smile. "I came in, used the uhm… did my… business. I pulled up my trousers, and washed my hands."

"Okay… now how did your hand get down inside the toilet?"

The boy started to leak tears. "I didn't mean to. It was an accident."

"Of course it was, sweetie. Now you were washing your hands. Go on."

The boy sighed. "I washed my hands, dried them, just like I'm been taught. I threw the towel into the bin, and then just looked around this little room. Then I was just sat down again and just looked around. And I was thinking…"

"About?" Louisa urged the child.

"Well, you know, here we are waaayyy up in the air and I was sitting on the toilet almost like at home. Course it's not quite like at home…"

"And?"

The kid's faced crumpled. "I was playing with my little airplane. My dad bought it for me in the airport shop, you know? It looks just like this one only a lot smaller. And I was thinking that maybe someday I'd be a pilot? Maybe an astronaut after that? That would be great!"

"Bobby! Didn't I tell you to put that toy plane into carryon bag?" the mum scolded. "I told you…"

"Shush!" Louisa shouted then softened her tone. "So the toy plane looked like this one? I bet it's quite something. And I think having goals for your life are important. I always wanted to teach and my husband always wanted to be a doctor. So you just may become a pilot someday or even an astronaut! Good for you!"

The boy sighed. "Thanks. But, it's probably ruined now. Down in the muck, I'd imagine."

"What?" the dad exploded. "Your airplane is in the loo?"

The kid nodded sadly. "Sorry, dad; sorry, mum. I should have put it away. But I had it in my pocket and I_ was_ playing with it."

"Bobby?" asked Louisa. "It fell into the loo, is that it?"

"Yeah," Bobby said softly. "The plane, the real one, must have hit an air pocket or something and I lost it. And it fell down; straight in."

"Oh?" Louisa patiently asked. "You tried to get it back?"

"I did," the boy told her softly. "I held a towel in my hand, the left. Someone would have to be daft to put their hand down a loo, wouldn't they?"

Louisa chuckled. "Plumbers do it. Our friend Bert back in our village does it; that is when he was a plumber."

Bobby's dad asked, "What's this Bert do now?"

"He runs a restaurant," I said.

The mum and dad wrinkled their noses as their son said, "I hope he washes his hands!"

Louisa laughed. "I'm sure he does, and he runs a fine restaurant, doesn't he Martin?"

I recalled the many disasters befalling Bert Large and the Large Restaurant, but the pleading eyes of Louisa stopped my mouth. "He does," I replied slowly. "He does." I hoped I'd not have to treat a huge rash of food poisoning upon my return to pay for the sin of stretching the truth.

Louisa turned back to Bobby. "Your toy plane fell into the toilet."

"Yeah. I tried to pick it up but the wing was stuck. I guess the valve thing sort of grabbed it when it fell in." He sighed. "So I tried to pull it out but it wouldn't come free!"

"You wanted your toy back," prompted the teacher.

"I did." He turned tear streaked cheeks and eyes to mine. "It's mine."

I bent down to hear Bobby's soft voice better. "I see. So you… must have pushed…"

The kid started to cry harder. "I… I… squeezed the plane tightly and held in the flush button. And…" he gasped. "The airflow sucked my hand right in! When the valve snapped open, it just pulled my hand straight in!"

Louisa laughed. "Well, if we just do this then?" she said as she reached inside the cubical, the rushing whistling noise which had provided a sibilant background to the whole proceedings increased greatly in volume then the kid fell backwards into the waiting arms of the head teacher.

"Oh, my gawwddd!" shouted Bobby's mum. "Thank you! Thank you!"

The dad was gleeful. "My boy! Are you well? How's your hand?"

The kid's left hand was smeared with the blue disinfecting goo, but clutched in his tiny fingers was a small plastic airplane. "It's fine! See?" The boy held it out proudly right in my face. "Here's my toy plane! Isn't it neat?"

I'd probably have been gladder he was free, as well as proud of Louisa, but as the dripping and noxious toy was held below my nose, I had to bend to the side and spew my breakfast onto the decking.


	66. Chapter 66

Chapter 66 - Want

Louisa bent down and wiped at the pool of my vomitus on the carpeting. "Sorry," she muttered to the flight attendant. "He can be a bit sensitive," she added softly as I dabbed at my mouth with a towel.

The stewardess gave me a bottle of water. "Better now?"

I nodded after I drank. "Yes. Ahem, certain smells make me… I'm sorry."

"That's aright, Doctor. Can you examine the boy?"

I binned the soiled paper towels and took up Bobby from the happy embrace of his parents. "Let's wash that hand and give it a look, shall we?"

The boy nodded. "Yeah. Down in the poo water. Icky!" He happily washed his hands thoroughly, along with his soiled toy airplane. After scrubbing the plastic and wiping it clean he examined it critically. "Looks to be ok, don't you think?" This time he held the cleaned plaything further from my nose for inspection. "What you think?"

My eyes and fingers were feeling over his hand and wrist, the left. "I don't see any harm - to your hand. Make a fist and turn your wrist about."

Bobby did so and he wiggled his fingers. "It's okay, I think."

I took his small hand in mine and examined all aspects. "I don't see any scrapes or cuts. It's fine."

"And my plane?" The boy's eyes flicked away then back to me and I recalled the times I had been rejected by adults when I was a child. The kid looked up at me expectantly.

Was this what James Henry would look like in nearly nine years? What would my son expect me to say? So I took up the toy and looked it over, top, bottom, left and right.

"See it's got two engines, just like our plane," Bobby told me. "Even painted the same."

"Yes, I see. I think it's fine. Just keep it out of the toilet from now on."

The boy nodded. "Thanks to your missus…" he shrugged. "I don't think my friends will believe this story. But do _you_ think I might really be a pilot someday?"

Somehow in his earnest face I imagined a grown man in a complicated cockpit of some kind, plying flight controls. "I think you can be anything you _want_ to be or do." I turned and caught a quick smile from Louisa. "_If_ you work _hard_ for it… and you want it _bad enough_. Then _yes_; you can. You might be."

Bobby Spencer blew out a breath and then he smiled. "Ok, then I will."

I turned to the parents. "His hand appears to be fine."

Mum and dad shook my hand. "Thank you Doctor," the dad said.

I shook my head. "Don't thank me. Thank the teacher." I nodded towards Louisa who grinned as I said it.

000

Back in our seats Mr. Evans asked, "What was that about?"

"Oh, just a little boy with a toilet issue, is all," Louisa said. "Not much to write home about." She snapped her seat belt together. "Now," she said, "what do you want to do in London? We'll have one night. The train is fairly early the next morn, but we could do dinner or even a show if you'd like."

"Just like that?" I whispered. "But I need to know one thing."

"What?"

"How did you get little Bobby's hand free?"

"Oh," she laughed. "It's all in knowing how airplane toilets work. A toilet like that has a vacuum on the other side of that little flapper door in the bottom. When you push the flush button, all it does it let the door open a little, and the suction on the other side pulls the stuff down. So I just flushed the thing once more. He might have been able to pull his hand out without that, but he did so want to hang on to that toy plane."

I looked up the aisle and I could see a tiny hand swooping said toy around. "He does appear to like it."

"Holding the plane his hand was bigger than without it. He'd stuck his hand into the cookie jar and would not let go, you see."

I wrinkled my nose. "Some cookies. But how in the world did you gain such a vast experience of aircraft toilet systems?"

She laughed. "Oh… when I as at university one of my mates and I flew to Germany. On the way back… uhm, she got a little airsick. Of course all the beer she'd drunk might have had something to do with it - Oktoberfest. She got sick in the loo and she had long hair you see…" she gulped, "and it, her _hair_, got a little caught in the erh…"

"Oh God," I shuddered at the idea and from the trembling of her thigh next to mine I suspected something. "This wouldn't have been a _certain_ young woman from West Cornwall, would it?"

Louisa turned her face to mine and as she bit on her lip. "Can't I have some secrets, Martin?" She crossed her arms.

I left it at that and kept my mouth shut.


	67. Chapter 67

Chapter 67 - Parents

The rest of the flight was uneventful, thankfully with no real or imagined medical or psyco-social incidents. The plane landed smoothly at Heathrow and in fits and starts pulled to the Jetway and parked while people all round whipped out mobiles and turned then on. In a babble of load voices and all the expected hustle and bustle of people dragging carryon luggage we deplaned.

The Spencer family was waiting for us in the terminal building and they hailed us. "Doctor! Lousia!"

Louis steered my reluctant body over to them. "Yes?" she asked.

"I want to say again thank you for freeing our son," the father tousled his son's hair. "You know how children can get into things, isn't that the way things go at times?"

Louisa smiled at them while I only nodded. "We _do_ understand, don't we Martin? You wouldn't believe some of the dilemmas my students can get into."

Thoughts of the Dare Club flew through my brain as I cast a dour look at her. "Yes," I added, "and keep your son away from cleaning solvents, fertilizer, and paint." I advised. "And don't even TRY to change his handedness! No more of that nonsense!"

"Yes… of course," said his mum with an odd look. "Errm, thanks again, then." They shook hands with us once more then traipsed away to baggage claim.

"Well," said Louisa. "They _do_ seem nice. Even if they had those strange ideas about changing their son from left to right-handed." She took my hand and we followed them some distance behind to get our own bags.

"Yeah, swell." Parents, I knew, came in all sorts. "But for them to try and change their son from left to right handed! I'd have thought that went out with the Dark Ages! I wonder if they burn badgers in their backyard as well?" I muttered.

Louisa turned. "Like the Oakwood's; Terri and Anthony? They did _have_ other odd ideas."

I sighed. "And their horrible son Sam with the tubercular cat and the green goo the mum cooked up? God!" I stopped myself. "I'm certain _you_ are glad they moved away."

"Sam turned out to be a good student, although he did have his own ways. And Portwenn School _was_ good for him!"

"So did Peter Cronk; he had his own ways."

"But Peter is ever so smart!"

"Meaning?" I grunted.

"Meaning… that uhm, there are times…" she ducked her head, "that we need to make… uhm, allowances."

I stopped. "Oh really?"

In the crowded terminal with people scurrying to and fro time seemed to stand still as I waited for Louisa's wisdom.

She stretched up on tip toe and kissed my cheek. "Yes. Really."

I put an arm about her shoulders as I smelled her usual perfume, the shampoo she used, a hint of sunscreen from her makeup, the fruity smell of her lipstick; all making up the fragrance that made up Louisa Glasson. "So," I began to say, "are you telling me that you treat people differently, based on or because of their intelligence?"

She smiled at me. "I do. Don't you?"

Did I? There were few people that I considered to be intelligent. Portwenn certainly had it's share of eccentric, quirky and odd villagers. The village had a better than average ration of stupid, hide-bound, and parochial people; housewives, fishermen, painters, and more.

"And sometimes, we have to allow for other factors," she continued. "Are they lonely, depressed, have a bad family background… certain medical issues."

"Well, there may be times…" I thought of PC Joe Penhale, suffering both narcolepsy and agoraphobia, as well as a dash of megalomania at times, yet he _could_ function. And Stewart James the Forest Ranger with his six-foot tall squirrel companion was quite a case too. During Stewart's lucid periods I found him to be the most intellectual man in Portwenn, other than me, that is. "But trying to change Bobby's handedness is loony!"

Louisa looked at me with a concerned expression. "How will _we_ raise James, Martin? Like that? As rigid as your mum and dad as you say or as bodmin as poor Sam Oakwood's? You know I heard that when his father lost his job at university and they had to move down to Plymouth, Sam absolutely had a meltdown at the thought of leaving our school. Poor boy. He quite liked us after a while. I felt I was making real headway with the child."

"_Your_ parents were less than responsible, or so I gather."

She sighed. "Yep. Terry and Eleanor are a pair. But I suppose I turned out all right, mostly. At least I hope so." Her nervous face glanced at me. "I try to be."

"You did! You have!"

"You said once that I'd make a fine mother."

"You are." I squeezed her shoulder. "Don't doubt that. Far better than my mum, although that is a terrible datum to compare you to!"

Any further part of this tête-à-tête was disturbed by the beeping of an electric courtesy cart bearing an old woman holding a cane. "Make way there!" the teenaged driver yelled.

Louisa pulled me aside. "Come on. We need to get our bags."

The cart breezed past us in the terminal. "Right."

"Thanks, Martin," she whispered. "Thanks awfully."


	68. Chapter 68

Chapter 68 - Games

The airport shuttle deposited us at the front door of the hotel and we breezed in. This was the hotel we stayed on our trek southwards last week, so it felt oddly comforting to arrive just a few days later. The lobby was identical in appearance to last week even down to the frowzy teenage clerk at the desk. The girl smiled as we approached but she kept chewing her gum.

"Hello! How may I?"

"We have a reservation. Doctor and Mrs. Ellingham."

"Yes - let me see. Here we are," she plied her computer keyboard. "Same room as last week, that ok?"

"That would be lovely," chimed in Louisa.

I sighed under my breath as the room had a smallish window, northward facing onto a large and ugly brick wall that stretched out of sight. Louisa stepped on my foot so I stayed quiet.

"And you wouldn't know if there are any decent shows about? I know it might be short notice," Louisa smiled at the girl.

"No problem – half a sec… But it is the weekend! Probably not many tickets available. But you know though," she stopped to pop her chewing gum, "my fella and I went to see this new show, not a very large theater, only about 200 seats, it looked half empty. We quite enjoyed it! And it's not far; just a couple blocks down from Leicester Square. I bet you'd enjoy it!" She grinned. "How about that one?"

000

Louisa brushed at her hair much later as we prepared for bed. "Martin, what did you think? Not quite like anything we see back in the village is it?" I noticed she was wearing the yellow sleeveless satin nightgown.

I was vigorously brushing my teeth, trying to wash the bad taste out of my mouth from the night's Indian food and the stage production we had seen. I expectorated and rinsed. "No."

She was now leaning on the bathroom doorframe. "No, you have no thoughts about it or you think the Portwenn Players shouldn't stage it?"

I spat out the remainder of the water in my mouth, dabbed at my lips and set the glass down. "I…"

She raised an eyebrow. "Not your cup of tea was it or espresso?"

"_It's not just about the sex is it?" _I repeated the first line of the play to her. "What sort of a play starts like that?" I sneered as I went on. "The entire set was a bed, one chair, a dressing table with mirror, and two actors – and both of them were naked or nearly so."

She chortled. "And you've never seen a naked body, that it?"

"Don't be absurd! Of _course_ I _have_."

"So what was wrong with it? Just two people, a man and a woman in bed, mostly, discussing their relationship or lack of. So you didn't like it."

I'd have been quite happy enough to have a quiet meal and get to bed early after our flight to London. But no, Louisa had other ideas. She _had_ to see a show. So we'd had a rough wash up, I'd pieced together bits and pieces of a suit and a maid whisked it off for a pressing. Before I knew it Louisa had dragged me an Indian restaurant down the street (and I knew I'd pay for it tomorrow with a gastric upset) then into a taxi and to the theater.

"Must we talk about this, now?" I pointed to the alarm clock where the glowing numerals showed 11:59. "Late."

Her head bobbed. "But what about the show."

"And the title – _Games_. Odd sort of games, if you ask me. More like a comedy of errors, if you ask me. No one in their right mind would lay or sit there calmly while their partner discusses the pluses and minuses of previous sex partners, especially when comparing them to their current one!" I humphed. "We should get to bed."

Louisa slunk into the bathroom and slow ran a slender hand down my back from shoulder to waist then encircled it, so we stood hip to hip. She stared at out reflection. _"It's not just about the sex is it? _Is that what bothered you about the play. I quite liked it. Those two were all up and down in their own lives, Somewhat reminded me of…"

I ignored her obvious implication. "Perhaps it wasn't my cup of tea, as you suggest. If that bubble headed clerk hadn't mentioned it…" I sneered, "she and her boyfriend must be perverts of some kind."

Louisa pinched me and I jumped. "No," she kissed my shoulder then moved away. "Not perverts. The sex… well… I mean…" she laughed aloud. "It was a bit raunchy. Not sure they needed the sex scene in Act two. I thought the old biddy sitting next to me would faint she was panting so hard!"

I grunted at her. "What? You think comparing sexual experiences and all that isn't odd?' I bristled. "I didn't like it a bit."

She sighed. "I'd expect not." She turned out the light and taking my hand led to the bed. "Now Doctor, we need our rest." Louisa slid into bed and patted the mattress. "Care to join me?"

I peeled her hand from mine, walked to the door and made sure it was double bolted. Without a word I slide in beside her and she molded herself to me. I rested my head on the pillow and inhaled the fragrance of her hair. "Louisa, the play… you liked it?"

"I did." She craned her face up to mine. "Kiss me."

I did and she went on.

"The play _- Games – _it wasn't just about the sex, now was it? I mean the sexual attraction had put those two together, eventually, but it was more than that wasn't it?"

I groaned inside as I knew that Louisa wanted to talk. I was not good at talking, or even thinking about talking. "Yes," I said.

"Now take _us_, Martin. Was it the sex that brought us together? I mean I _am_ a woman and you _are_ a man."

As she said this there were parts of my brain and body all too aware that in my arms was a warm, fragrant, and soft woman in a satiny nightgown and her breasts were an inch from my chest. Her nearly flat tummy and female hips brushed against my legs. I could feel heat radiate, or actually convect, in the small space between us. My endocrine system increased my heart rate and my blood pressure must have gone up as I was suddenly aware of every inch of her body and clothing that was both touching me and not touching me. A tightness in my loins was the reaction and I tried to move away slightly so as not to be too obtrusive.

My insignificant motion away made her tighten her grip at my back and neck. "No not the sex, was it? Not for us. For as I remember it I got quite cross at you peering at me. I thought you might have been trying to look down my top!" She laughed. "But I know now… it was the eye thing."

"Glaucoma," I said and my mouth and throat was dry. "Louisa, we do need to sleep."

"Oh right, back to dreary old Portwenn, that biscuit tin town in the back of beyond." I could feel her breath hot on my cheek. "But that is home, right?"

"Right," was all I could say as my glands started to pour more adrenaline into my system.

"I agree Martin," she said after kissing my cheek. "We do have to get up early." She yawned.

"We do." I tried to will my hand to lift from the small of her back but to no avail.

"Martin, I…" I could not see her in the dark but I knew she was biting at her lip from the tone of her voice.

"What is it?"

"So if it wasn't about the sex, what was it? Between us from the start?"

I'd asked myself that question. The slim dark-haired woman on the plane; the eye condition was the second thing that caught my attention; the first being _her_. All of her – hair, eyes, body, clothes. She was interesting to look at. The glance she gave me at that time was one of some interest in me as well. We lay there for some time, I don't know for how long.

"Martin, you're not asleep are you?" she whispered.

From the warm breath on my chin I could tell exactly where her mouth was so I kissed it.

"Oh," she said happily after we came up for air. I tightened my grip on her back and she returned the favor. "Martin… I… well, so much for sleep." Her hand dipped inside my waistband.

000

Sometime later when our gasping had subsided to nearly normal breathing, she lay spooned against me, the yellow nightgown having joined my pyjamas on the hotel room carpet. Her naked back and bum ran slick with perspiration and I felt just as hot and sated.

Tomorrow we'd be home; in the village of Portwenn. We'd see James and Ruth and all the rest. It was time to go back. Yet we had made memories. "_It's not just about the sex is it?" _I whispered into her ear.

Her sleepy yet satisfied voice answered. "Hmmm?"

"Louisa," I began, "about the plane. The first time… we… saw each other."

"Yeah?" her voice asked softly.

What could I say? I said the only thing I could say. "You looked _interesting_."

"Oh?" She rolled from side to side to face me. "That it?"

"Yeah," the aroma of our love making wafted stronger as the space between us shrank to nothing.

"Okay," she sighed and putting her arms about me hugged me tightly. "You were as well."

"Ah," I said. _Interesting_ – now we each knew. "Goodnight, Louisa."

"Goodnight, Martin."

_Games_ was still a stupid play, I thought, yet somehow satisfying.


	69. Chapter 69

Chapter 69 - A Bear

Breakfast was quite rushed, juice and a stale roll from the catering cart in the hotel lobby, as we had overslept. I practically forced Louisa to run out to the taxi stand while I settled the account and maneuvered my suitcase to the kerb. Louisa waved her arms and a taxi veered across three lanes of traffic and screeched to a halt at the cab stand to a chorus of angry car horns.

"God!" I muttered as we sped off. "I hate being late!"

"Martin!" hissed Louisa, "we are NOT late! Stop going on about it, would you?" She bounced herself on the seat to free her raincoat trapped beneath her. "We have plenty of time."

I showed her my watch. "The train leaves Paddington in 45 minutes!"

The driver looked over his shoulder. "You catchin' a half seven train, mate?" He looked to be about 40, and was short, fat, and dark, but his teeth shone brilliantly through his scraggly beard and his voice told of his Caribbean origins.

"Yes, we are! We should be there 30 minutes before!" I replied angrily.

"Right," the driver grunted as the car sped up precipitously throwing us about as he sped around the next corner.

"Have a care!" I shouted while Louisa grabbed at an assist strap by the rear quarterlight.

She clutched at the strap spasmodically and cinched her seatbelt tighter. "Not as bad as the taxis in Spain."

"It's cleaner," I replied. "But faster, if that is possible."

"You want Paddington - I'm your mon!" answered the driver. "You jus' hol' on an' old Jimmy will get you there! Right sharp!"

Louisa's right hand reached out for mine as the car rocked to and fro. "Going home."

I looked sharply at her as I took her cool fingers in mine. "Yes, we are."

"Did you ever think you'd be saying that about Portwenn?"

Did I? "No." It was the furthest thing from my mind once.

"But it's alright?"

"It's where you and James are," I told her affirmatively.

"You too."

"Yes." It was true and the three of us packed in the cramped surgery would have to be sorted and soon, especially if we, I gulped, voluntarily and willing started to grow our family. "Need to sort the house. Portwenn isn't very…"

The driver paused for a second in his attempt to break the land speed record and looked hard at us in his rear view mirror. "Portwenn? Where dat, mum?"

"North Cornwall - on the coast," Louisa told him. "It's quite nice actually."

"Surfin'?" the man asked.

Louisa brightened. "Oh yes. Do you surf?"

"Not for years, luv. But in my day, in dee old country, me and ma frens' get a case of Red Stripe and hit the beach, ya know? Mon, dat dee life!" He chuckled and switched his radio louder and to the beat of steel drums and loud guitars we sped to the station.

000

Louisa hurried along beside me as we clattered through Paddington Station then down the escalator past the bronze statue of the famous bear. She stopped to pet the head of the figure.

"Louisa! Come on would you?" I urged her. "In spite of the moronic driver's boasts we have only ten minutes to get aboard!"

"Oh Martin, just give me a sec." She rubbed the bear's cheek. "I always do this when I pass."

I waited impatiently until she rejoined me and we made our way to the platform and onto the train. "That didn't take long, now did it?" She seemed happy and radiated gladness onto me. "You never read any of the Paddington Bear stories, I reckon."

I put our cases into the storage by the carriage door and ushered my wife down the aisle. "Here are our seats. Sorry no First Class - all booked." I pointed out the duo seating; two chairs facing each other across a small table.

Louisa dropped onto the chair and struggled out of her raincoat. "This is fine." She yawned. "Did you ever?"

"Did I what?"

"Did you read the Paddington Bear stories?"

"One of my nannies read them to me until I could read for myself. My dad…" I stopped as a painful memory surfaced. "He… didn't think them suitable. Called them silly. He binned them."

She leaned forward and patted my knee. "Oh, that is a shame."

I smiled. "I read them anyway, at night under the covers with a torch, after I rescued them from the alley."

She laughed. "My mum used to yell at me for doing the same thing. I was always reading. But you got the books back."

"Yes."

"How old were you?"

"I was four, nearly."

"You read Paddington when you were four?"

"Not yet four, as I said."

She looked long and hard at me. "Your dad threw them away. I am sorry."

"They are fanciful of course but," I cleared my throat, "when do you think we should start reading them to James - move on from the talking fire engine to the bear?"

"He's only four months old, Martin."

I wrinkled my nose. "Still, he may enjoy them slightly more than my medical journals, although those are a way for me to read to him something that I prefer."

Louisa stood over me, then bent down and kissed my cheek. "You could read Paddington, if you like."

"I'll consider it."

Louisa sat back down but stretched out a shoeless foot and put it on my lap. "You might enjoy reading again about the bear from _Darkest Peru_."

Paddington Bear had arrived in London after a long journey. Now we were going the opposite direction, from the railway station where the bear got his name, into deepest darkest Cornwall.

**Author's Notes: **

**There are plenty of Paddington Bear links on the Internet for you to investigate. A bronze statute of the little bear from _Deepest Darkest Peru_ stands at the foot of one of the escalators on the main concourse.**

**Paddington Bear appeared in an earlier Doc Martin story of mine, titled "Are You Happy Now?" - in Chapter 38.**


	70. Chapter 70

Chapter 70 – Gossip

The train pulled out of the station at seven thirty sharp and the Saturday schedule showed we'd arrive at Bodmin Parkway at eleven fifty-nine, assuming there were no delays. From there less than twenty miles to Portwenn and our adventure would be over. I sighed thinking that there were many obstacles ahead for Louisa and I, plus James as well, but at this point he was an armful accessory to our proceedings. But when he became more verbal and ambulatory I was certain that our life together would change even more.

I had experienced the hell of my parent's poor attempt at being parents, and from the awful words from mum's mouth, I knew that she thought I was at the root of their problems. So I was shifted off to boarding school at the earliest possible moment and suffered the consequences. Our holiday in Spain had served, I felt very strongly to cement Louisa closer than we had ever been before. But over the long haul…

Louisa interrupted my ruminations. "You look quite thoughtful."

"I was thinking about us; and James."

"Oh? Really," she smiled. "I hope they were good thoughts."

I glanced outside for a moment. "Yes, they were - they are."

"That the truth?" she asked and I heard concern in her tone.

I started to speak when we were barged upon by a loud foursome, three women and a man, who came boisterously down the aisle and positively fell into the four seats opposite. They were chatting away like magpies and acting rather silly and it made me curl my lip at their behavior. I feel that adults should act like adults, and not like giddy schoolgirls.

One of the women glanced my way. "Doctor Ellingham? That is you? Of course it is. Must be. No one else would be wearing a suit on a Saturday morning! Hullo!" she spat out like a happy viper.

Her mid-thirties face and brown hair seemed slightly familiar. "Have we, er, met?" I mumbled.

"Oh, yeah! I'm Darcy Middleton. _Dr_. Middleton." She emphasized the doctor. "I'm a consultant with Robert Southwood."

"Isn't that the uhm,,," Louisa said, "the one you were going to…"

"Yes," I said softly.

"We were all soooo excited that you'd be joining us, but when we heard that you weren't - well, I thought poor old Robert would have stroke right there in the ward." The Middleton woman had a puzzled look on her face. "Something about… oh listen to me!" She held out her hand to Louisa. "Darcy."

Louisa gingerly shook her outstretched hand. "I'm Louisa. Martin, would you?"

I managed to get words out of my dry mouth. "Yes, ahem, this is Louisa."

At that Louisa lightly kicked my foot. "Martin…" she hissed softly and not good naturedly.

"Louisa Glasson," I spat out, "uhm, Ellingham - my wife."

"Oh!" Darcy intoned quite solemnly. "I did hear that you stayed out in where is it? Portyssic."

"Portwenn," Louisa and I corrected her in unison. "The village is named Portwenn," I added by myself.

Darcy looked slyly from me to Louisa, and scanned my wife from the soles of her shoes to the crown of her glorious brunette head. "Oh… so you're the…" she stopped and changed gears, "Martin's wife."

"Yes," Louisa brightened. "We're just coming back from our holiday."

Darcy perked up. "Where to? I do love travel. Abroad?"

"Yes," I interjected.

"It was the loveliest resort near Barcelona, wasn't it Martin? Oh there were a few, _incidents_, but we soldiered through didn't we?" Louisa smiled at Darcy. "Traveling with your friends?"

Darcy introduced her fellows. "This is Frank Chambers, my close friend, and Susan Peterson with her business partner Sally Richards."

Darcy's friends all muttered hellos.

"We're getting off at Reading to see Highclere Castle," Darcy added.

"Oh, that's where they film Downton Abbey. Brilliant! Sounds like fun!" Louisa turned to me. "Doesn't it?"

"What's Downton Abbey?" I asked, thoroughly mystified.

Louisa gave a knowing look to Darcy. "Martin doesn't fancy the telly, I'm afraid."

"I see," Darcy shot back. "I really think the whole thing is just so…"

"Luscious?" Louisa threw in. "And the costumes!"

Darcy laughed. "And the men aren't too bad either!"

Both women chuckled heartily.

That prompted her friend Frank to excuse himself. "_Rubbish_. I'm' for the loo," he said then he was gone.

"Rude bugger," Darcy sniffed at his retreating back. "His days might be numbered, if you know what I mean."

I was trying to catch Louisa's eye in an attempt to forestall a long chat. I checked my watch. "Reading is coming up in less than twenty minutes."

"So right," Darcy replied. "Dr. Ellingham, I _would_ like to ask you…"

I sighed knowing what was to come. "Go on."

"Now about your decision not to come to Imperial…" The woman cleared her throat. "I suppose you got wind of the hullabaloo surrounding fast hand Robert, right?"

"What?" I practically shot out of my seat.

"What's happened?" Louisa asked.

Darcy looked startled. "Well, I'd thought you had heard. _Surely_ you must have. That's why you decided to stay in Cornwall? Must be." Her dulcet voice dropped to a whisper. "Seems that Southwood was caught in a bit of hanky-panky, if you know what I mean." She winked meaningfully.

"Oh?" Louisa swung her head from Darcy to me. "You know anything about it?"

"_No_. I don't pass on gossip, even if I'd heard any, which I have not!" I said this with certainty.

Louisa smiled at me. "No you don't and you never have, I'm sure." She turned back to the Darcy woman. "But if you'd care to tell me… I'd be interested." She grinned.

Darcy swung her head around then lowered her voice. "Well, it seems that Southwood was balancing his job and a few other juicy bits on the side and a wife, as well." Then she chuckled. "He was always one to stand right next to the woman." She eyed the attractive Louisa. "I could tell Robert was a breast man; always managing to brush an elbow or an arm across, the…"

"Oh dear. Isn't that _awful_ Martin?"

I sneered. "Louisa, do you really want to hear this?"

"Yes. Go on, Darcy."

"Well, it seems that they had a patient in, a young woman. Robert got a bit too free with the old digits, and it turned out she was the young and new second wife of one of the provosts. They sacked him." She snapped her fingers. "And about half of the staff as they'd felt Southwood had promoted an atmosphere of abuse in the Department."

Louisa smiled. "For Heaven's sake! Well, I am sooo glad that my husband wasn't embroiled in that, aren't you Martin?"

"And, they also found out that Southwood was involved in some nasty threesome with two women. An X-ray tech from Imperial and the other was a specialist who had just moved back to London from Cornwall - a Dr. Montgomery. Might you know of her?"

I know my mouth fell open but before I could say anything, Louisa laughed aloud. "Edith? Edith Montgomery?"

"Why yes! Yes it was. The hubby of the other gal, the X-ray tech, put a detective on the case. Caught them in some nasty act - all three - in a Soho apartment. Color video and everything! All quite shocking!" she giggled. Then Darcy looked down at her watch. "My, look at the time! I'd better find Frank and get ready to leave the train. So nice to meet you! Have a nice trip home!"

Darcy's friends followed her away and the carriage was suddenly brighter for their departure.

I sat there speechless wondering, actually dreading, what Louisa might say about the gossip we'd just heard.

Louisa tapped her fingers on the arm of her seat. "Interesting. Edith Montgomery. Go figure, caught in a three-some. Gosh. You know I _never_ liked her." She looked quite carefully at me.

Finally I could speak after working up saliva. "Yes. I know - I could tell."

Louisa shook her head as if to clear it of nasty cobwebs. She sighed, but it was a satisfied sound. "Now, Martin," she stood and smiled brilliantly at me. "How about treating a girl to some real breakfast?"

"Right," I muttered and let her lead me to the Express Café onboard glad to leave that nasty bit of gossip behind. Yet I wondered what scheming Edith might have entangled me in had I indeed left Portwenn for London?

**Author's note:**

**Another FF author supposed a connection between Robert Southwood and Edith Montgomery. I hope she excuses me for expanding on the idea. **


	71. Chapter 71

Chapter 71 - Nerves

The Express Café menu was posted on the wall and I literally shuddered at the thought of how long ago most of these items may have been cooked and package. I was certain the menu was a literal cornucopia of food poisoning just waiting to be served up. Bert's restaurant, at least cooked everything fresh, unlike this twenty-first century dish of ptomaine.

"Doesn't look so bad, is it?" Louisa muttered to me. "How about the eggs and bacon? Has to be better than those hard rolls from the hotel."

"No. God. Likely to be swimming in E coli and the like. Perhaps coffee might be the only course."

"Hello, travelers!" said the server cheerily. "How can I help you two? We've got some lovely rashers just cooking up and the eggs are hot. Just packed them aboard in Paddington. How's about it?" The man was positively beaming this morning. Coffee and tea as well, or juice or orange squash."

"That does sound lovely, doesn't it?" Louisa answered. "I'll have the eggs and the bacon. Toast?"

The man smiled, his too-white teeth shining over his thing lips. "No toast mum, but we have some very fine buttermilk scones. That do? With jam?"

My wife nodded. "Fine. Yes, with tea?"

"Yes, mum. And for you sir?" He eyed me warily. "I assure you," he sniffed, "it's all nice and hot fresh from the kitchens. No worries there."

The eggs smelled fine and the aroma of the rashers wafted from the microwave. "You completely disinfect the counters and all the horizontal and vertical surfaces?" I scanned the stainless counter and the wall behind the man. "Plenty of elbow grease?"

"Yes," the man hissed and waggled his gloved fingers at me. "Sterile gloves as well. You must be a Public Heath toff, that it? Checking up on us?"

"Martin!" hissed Louisa at me. "Do you _have_ to be…?"

"Careful? Yes, I do!" I replied. "Food poisoning is not a joking matter, as you well know. The school has had its own share of those sorts of outbreaks…"

"And a certain doctor did his bit with a bolluxed up dishwasher installation, right?" Louisa said tersely.

She had me there and my words ground to a halt. Around the time that Pauline had gone to take her phlebotomy course I had a damnable temporary clerk who thought it best to offer tea to my patients. Due to a mix up on the plumbing connections of my new dishwasher cross contamination had occurred and a good portion of the village had suffered GI upset. My mouth fell open as I fumbled for a retort but I was interrupted.

The server cranked his young head from me to Louisa and back. He then took an affronted and defensive tone. "I do assure you that we pass inspection every day sir. _Honestly_. And if you are a sort of roving inspector, then I invite you to examine our credentials."

"Hey, bloke!" said a man behind me in a disturbed tone. "There's some back here that needs a cuppa and right quick!" the speaker yawned broadly. "So either order or shove over!"

"Martin," said a soft voice at my elbow. "Just order, please?" Louisa's eyes stared up me with irritation. "Don't make a scene."

"I'll have the eggs and bacon. No muffins - too many carbohydrates." My voice blurted out to stop further admonishments from my spouse. "Coffee. Espresso?"

The server brightened. "Right. No espresso, I'm afraid. Coffee or tea."

My nose wrinkled. "Tea - Earl Grey."

The man pressed buttons as an assistant served up our orders. "That'll be sixteen and thirty pence, please."

I gravely handed over my cash card and he rang it up.

Louisa picked up the take away boxes, while I juggled the hot drinks and packs of plastic ware and napkins stuffed into tiny heat-sealed bags. "Thank you," she told the man.

"Anytime. Next?"

We rocked to and fro back to our seats, finding the carriage blissfully quiet after Dr. Whatever and her posse had departed.

Louisa sat and opened her food box. "Well that does look nice." She inhaled deeply. "I'm sure this will be fine."

I hoped I'd not regret tumbling to the pressure to conform. "Yes."

"You don't sound happy, Martin."

I broke open a pack, extracted a fork, and pushed bits of steaming scrambled eggs into my mouth. "I'm fine," I told her testily after chewing and swallowing.

"I just don't recall you being that picky on our honeymoon trip - about food and all."

"Louisa…"

"Oh no - you have _that_ look. Whatever is wrong?"

I bit off a bit of bacon and washed it down with a swallow of tea. "Nothing."

Louisa ate a few forkfuls of egg, some bacon, then started in on her scone with quick bites and from the way she was snapping I was sure that if my finger got in the way she'd bite it clean thru. After the scone disappeared, washed down by her tea, she glared up at me. "Martin, you _have_ to say it. You _have to_…" she looked out the window and her lip got punished by her teeth, "_talk_ to me."

I sighed and rolled the plastic fork over. The tiny plastic letters said made in South Africa. I sneered as the entire world seemed to made, _somewhere else_. "This fork is imported."

"My God! Listen to you! Going on about a fork!" Her arms flew angrily across her chest. "Now look me in the eye and don't you _dare _talk to me about forks!"

"Don't be daft!"

"Daft? _I'm_ daft?!" Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Martin it's been a very nice holiday - no, that's not right - extremely… ahem…" a slender hand fumbled at her neckline. "Very, _lovely_!" Her eyes flashed happily but that went in a second back to the concerned look she had started with. "It seems to me that all the rogering we been doing you could at least talk to me," she ended with.

I was quite speechless by the term she had used. I was of course familiar with the concept. "Uhm, rogering?"

Fire flash in her eyes. "Yes, Martin, rogering! For if you don't talk to me I might as well be… a, a, a, floozy in a pub somewhere out for a good time!"

"Louisa! No! That's not it! It's… and I really don't appreciate you using words like that. My God! Louisa, we ARE married. Wouldn't the phrase _make love_ be more fitting?" Heat was all in my face, neck and chest and my pulse was pounding.

She leaned forward and almost put her nose right to mine. "Sorry, Martin, I was trying to get your attention, is all. Yes… _make love_ it is… and will be," she ended with a muttered, "I hope. Now… can you please tell me _what_ is wrong?"

I raised my eyes to the heavens but all I saw was the plastic covering lining the aluminium roof of the railway car.

"Louisa, I was thinking…"

"Yes? Go on."

"About them… erm, our… return to…"

"Portwenn, that it? What about it?" Her fingers tapped my knee. "We'll be fine."

I gulped. "Will we? Will we Louisa? I… am rather… nervous."

"Nervous? Nerves?"

"Yes."

Her fingers wrapped my knee while the other touched my chin. "So Doc Martin does have a few cracks in that stick of rock. Hm. Do tell."

"I… well… the village can be rather…"

"Nosy? Gossipy? Yeah, there is that."

"And you're not nervous?"

Louisa grinned with an odd look on her face. "I… perhaps… I…"

"If you weren't, I could understand that. It is _your_ village after all. I'm the townie. It's _your_ home."

"No Martin. That isn't quite right." Her head rose and she kissed me. "It is your home as well. And they are our friends."

I could not help it for I groaned.


	72. Chapter 72

Chapter 72 - Neighbors

"Why _are_ you groaning, Martin?" Louisa looked up at me with her limpid eyes.

Both the tone of her words and her look made me pause and think. Portwenn is small, cramped, and insular and the villagers… "The villagers don't like me," I told her. I was aware that there are times that I have pretty handily made a cock-up of every connection to each and every villager. My first encounter with them en masse was when I fired Elaine as my so-called assistant. I suddenly found that as the much heralded new GP, I suddenly had _no_ patients, other than one - and that one, Roger Fenn - was only there because I had diagnosed a possible throat cancer.

"You _have_ done a pretty good job at making them mad, from time to time," Louisa said.

"I know. I was certain they were boiling the tar and plucking feathers.

"But you _have_ saved how many of them from death or disease? Quite a few."

I wrinkled my nose. "There would be an awful lot less disease in Portwenn if the villagers would wash their hands and follow the most basic of hygienic procedures!"

"No need to shout Martin. Keep it quiet please," she said craned her head about apologetically as others in the carriage gave me dirty looks.

"Sorry." I looked over at her beautiful face. "You're right. I do shout."

"Yeah. When you get frustrated."

"Perfectly natural."

"I don't recall you shouting when you struggled with the buttons on my jeans the day you saved Holly's life." She whispered this to me and I had to strain to hear her.

That was the day I proposed and we made love for the first time. "Right. And they were _very_ small buttons."

"Rather tight jeans too," she added and I saw her face blush. She leaned back and stared at me, with a half smile. "But we got _that_ sorted." Her smile was wider now.

"Likely when you got pregnant, I think."

She nodded. "I think so too." Nervous fingers drummed on the armrest. "But…" she sighed, "about the village."

"Small, interfering, prying and nosy."

"Martin, in our village, _everyone_ knows _everyone_. Everybody is into everybody else's business at home, the school, the pubs and shops. Neighbors."

"I never liked that. The day, we… uhm… after we uhm… got engaged… suddenly everybody knew. How'd that happen?"

She glanced away. "I did tell Sally the school secretary and Tricia of course. Things just went from there."

"Like a house on fire."

She nodded. "I didn't _want_ to keep it secret. I _wanted_ people to know."

"Dave, that silly postman, was sniggering with Pauline when I walked into surgery - about us." I scoffed. "He likely spread most of it! None of their business was it?"

Louisa took a deep breath. "Well, no. Not their business, but it _was_ news. Head teacher snoggs the village GP! But we all are neighbors. There are very few secrets in Portwenn."

I bit my tongue as I recalled the Rix's and their predilection for sex games, how Pauline's uncle decided he was bisexual, who had Kleinfelter's syndrome, or drank too much or abused drugs, or was in remission from cancer treatment - which might not last. I inclined my head. "As you say."

"So, Martin, dear husband, you _have_ to get used to them - the villagers. They _will_ be nosy and they _will_ pass on gossip. And you will admit that sometimes, you… and I…" her hand rose up to play with her necklace, "have given them plenty to discuss."

"Right. How I'm rude and brash; blundering headlong over all their feelings. I will admit that."

Louisa took my hand. "Poor Doc Martin. Poor thing. Do you recall that you called back your locum the other night and gave her advice, and I heard you giving it to Bert Large as well, that was _not_ at the top of your lungs. So, it _is_ possible to be civil. Right?"

I sighed. "It is hard… for me… when I deal with… imbeciles."

"They're not _all_ imbeciles, are they? And that word is quite out of fashion - not exactly politically correct. Can you try not to use it?"

"Shall I compose a list of words that are acceptable and another that is not?" I sneered sarcastically.

Louisa smiled. "We could work on that - together - if you like."

Louisa Glasson Ellingham, my wife, and likely the best counselor I might ever have, sat grinning at me. "Would you?"

"Of course, Martin. Anything for my husband." She stood and gathering our breakfast rubbish, bent down and pecked my cheek. "Off to the loo."

"Don't let your hair get caught," I told her.

Her laughter followed her down the carriage.


	73. Chapter 73

Chapter 73 – Wonderful

"You called them friends."

Louisa gave me a concerned look upon her return to her seat. "And _you_ don't think they are. What would you call them?"

I opened my mouth but seeing the pleading look on her face I shut it. "Sorry."

"Let me tell you a story, Martin." She took a deep breath. "When I was little and my mum and dad were out of sorts, well they always were out of sorts, mostly – our neighbors out helped – a lot."

She twisted her fingers into mine, leaning forward from her seat towards me. "The Worley's and Austin's, your Aunt Joan and Uncle Phil, Helen Pratt, Bert Large… all those people… the whole village mostly… they helped out. _Really_. Not that I was to know, of course."

"Sounds like they looked out for you."

She bit at her lip, looked at the floor and then up at me and I could see extra wetness in her eyes. "Yep. More than that. One day it was pouring rain, a typical Portwenn winter day, and your Aunt Joan picked me in the Carryall they used to have. It was just after mum… left… for the first time."

"Louisa, you don't have to say any more."

"Yesss... I do, Martin. Dad was on a tear of course, the drink didn't help, and I was left alone mostly; on my own. I suppose the market was still keeping a tab running, for we had food, but going back to the cold house when I knew that Terry would be passed out on the sofa, cheerily telling me how the next race horse would bring our ship in, or he'd be off somewhere on a scheme and our cottage would be empty. I'd usually curl up with a book, any old thing I could lay my hands on, and go into another world. But Joan took me down to the Golden Hawk for a hot cocoa and some biscuits, chatting all the while about Father Christmas coming soon (but I knew it would be a wanting one that year), praising me on winning the school essay contest, that sort of thing. I was just happy to get some attention, outside of school, that is."

I could see the haunted look that had come into her face and posture. "Louisa," I told her softly, "you don't have to tell me anymore."

Ignoring me she went on. "Bert Large's wife had just died as well, but there he was from time to time, bringing by a loaf of bread, or a shawl he'd picked up somewhere, all the while chatting me up, telling me about baby Al and all the wonderful things he was learning. Don't tell Al, but there were a few nappies I changed for him, when Bert needed someone, short notice like, to help him. Bert helped me and I helped him. And when I came back to the village last spring with a belly out to here and there he was, good old Bert Large, big as life, shouting to me down at the Platt 'Welcome back Louisa!'"

Her hand had grown clammy in mine, fingers nearly lifeless. "Louisa, you don't have to say more."

"And I do recall Joan Norton saying her nephew would come for the summers. I don't remember meeting you then Martin, you must have been about ten or so, but I do recall hearing someone talking about the odd little sod down from the city, tucked out in a suit on her and Phil's farm. That was you, wasn't it?"

"Had to have been. I stopped after I was eleven." I wet my dry mouth. "My dad stopped it after that. I mostly stayed out at the farm, except for one time I fell off the hayrick and had to have Dr. Sim stitch it up. I was nine. He made a mess of it. Half the stitches broke within a week for the idiot used old gut for the sutures." I coughed. "I ripped them all out inside of a fortnight, running about, so Joan bound it up in a tea towel."

Louisa's eyes swung up to mine from her trip down memory lane. "I had seen the scar below your left knee."

"It made me very interested in suturing years later, making damn sure that when _I_ put in sutures, they were the proper type and properly placed."

"So because Doc Sim did a lousy job it made you a better doctor."

I nodded. "I suppose that's true."

She nodded. "Just as being on the receiving end of extra care from the village – you know they secretly paid for a lot of books at college? – made me a better teacher; caring for my students. Especially those in who need a bit of bucking up."

"Like Peter Cronk or Sam Oakwood."

She smiled broadly. ""Like those two and others."

"So you're telling me I am wrong."

"Sorry, Martin, but I am. Portwenn made me what I am today, good and bad. Seems to me that you might say the same about yourself."

A sunny day flashed to mind, at a picnic on the bluff with Aunt Joan, looking to sea as a sailboat with a red sail got further away. We'd stay until it was hull down on the horizon. They we'd pack up the empty hamper and head back to the farm. I recall Phil was never too happy after those outings, for he stayed behind to work. Aunt Joan would bustle alone about the house and fields, but I could tell that something was amiss there. It took years for me to find out why. But being in the country, having my aunt to myself, that was heavenly in spite of the tensions in the house.

Louisa peered at me. "Am I right? Isn't Portwenn more wonderful than you might imagine? Below the surface they are wonderful people. Do you understand? And _they_ are far more appreciative of _you_ than you can imagine or will _ever_ be told by them to your face."

More memories flooded back of the recent past and I knew that there was a ring of truth in her words. I was about to almost agree with her when my mobile rang. I fished it out and peered at the screen. "It's Aunt Ruth!" Flipped it on. "Hello? Is James all right?"


	74. Chapter 74

Chapter 74 - Future

"Oh the little bugger is fine," my aunt said. "He's drooling on my shoulder at the moment. For the life of me I can't see how in the world mum's can stand it - all the licking and sucking. Ghastly. Perhaps one of the reasons I never reproduced."

"That's not why you called, though. How is he?"

"As I said Martin the boy is fine, although I will be glad when I can hand him over to you. I do need _some_ sleep. No, actually, I wanted to see if your train is on time."

"You could have checked the website."

"Martin, you know I don't have any connection at Joanie's farm."

"Right. Well we seem to be on time."

"Good. I'll be at the Bodmin station before noon. Morwenna agreed to watch the child for me so I don't have to drag him all over Hell's half acre. I expected he'd get cranky on the trip."

"Oh," my heart fell. I spoke to Louisa. "Ruth says she's leaving James behind - Morwenna will watch him - when she comes to pick us up."

Louisa got a sad look as I told her. "Well, that will be right in the middle of a nap, likely. Okay." Louisa bit on her lip. "Still…"

"Uh, Aunt Ruth, don't you think you could bring him with you? To the station?" I said. "We have, uhm, missed him."

"Oh Martin, the child will be fussy and believe me, I've had my fill of this fussy baby. As I said, I'm not the best of baby minders." I could hear her sneering as she spoke. "No, it's all arranged. Morwenna will have him at your cottage and Bert Large is just across the road. He may be a terrible plumber but he does know about baby care."

"Yeah. Wonderful," I grunted.

"Fine, then. See you around noon. Bye Martin. Give my best to the teacher." She rung off.

"She won't bring him to the station?" Louisa asked.

"No. Morwenna will have him." I sighed. "I don't actually think of Morwenna Newcross as a baby minder, do you?"

"Not exactly, but she did help out the night of the fog and Bert's abortive ghost tour, didn't she?" Louisa reminded me. "You said then that she was smarter than she seemed."

I nodded. "She'd be more useful if she got training. Need to look into that."

"I think that Morwenna could be quite anything she wished to be."

"She is better than Pauline is some aspects; at least Al Large is not sniffing about all the time. I hated that."

Louisa chuckled. "He wanted to see Pauline is all. Speaking of which, have you heard anything about her?"

"No. Al has said that she's working on nurse's aid training, part time. So at least she is making something of herself."

"And Morwenna doesn't even have the blood draws to do for you."

I sniffed. "She hates needles."

"Oh. Forgot about that."

"But she did assist me when I repaired the umbilical hernia on your mother." I was deathly afraid that when I sliced into Eleanor's gut I'd be puking my guts out, but my training held and the surgery proceeded normally.

Louisa grinned. "Last surgery you might ever do? Or do you wish to pursue that?"

We were interrupted by the ringing of Louisa's mobile. She dug it from her bag. "Speak of the devil." She flipped the phone open and spoke. "Hello mum," came out warily.

"God." I rolled my eyes. Eleanor Glasson was a piece of work - self centered, rude, and interfering. She'd only come back at her daughter's bidding, after she might actually been needed, and her actions as a grand mum seemed less than helpful at the time. Her smoking, foul language and alcoholic tonic all had likely caused some sort of harm to our _son_, as well as to _our_ relationship. I felt it was from her mum that Louisa had learned the art of running away - Eleanor away to Portugal - just as Louisa had fled Portwenn for London.

"No. Nothing special," Louisa said into her phone.

"What does _she_ want?" I hissed.

"What's that mum? Really. Oh. No… No! Not really."

I stared at Louisa as I watched her face take on more of a scared look.

"Yes. There is that…" Her mouth fell open. "Don't you dare say that!" she shouted. "Martin is a fine man… Yes he is!"

"Switch off," I said.

"Mum! You listen to me! Martin is my husband and I won't have you spewing mean and horrible… hello?" She closed her mobile. "She hung up on me." Louisa sat there stunned.

"What did she want? And what did she say?"

Louisa sighed. "She'd heard that we were married, God knows who told her, and she wanted to know if I might be able to put the arm on you and secure her a loan."

"Oh God. How much did the witch want?"

Louisa dropped the mobile into her handbag and frowned at me. "She's trying to get a restaurant rebuilt and wanted to know if she might _borrow_ (she stressed the word oddly) only 20,000 Pounds. That's all. she figured since we were married, I could…" she cleared her throat, "prevail on you."

"Twenty thousand? That's rich. She might as well ask for two million for all the chance she'd have of getting it! I don't have that kind of money. And besides…"

"You don't? I thought…" she butted in.

"If you want a _proper_ house that is." I smiled at her. "You do, right?"

"A house? Yeah, that would be…"

"I just thought that if we want James to have a sister or brother, I just think we need…" my throat felt tight, "more room. A garden; all that."

"You mean that?" Louisa looked at me with an mixture of hope and fear. "A house - a real one?"

"Yes. For our future."

She smiled and took my hand. "I _would_ like that Martin. Very much. Thank you."

"Unless you'd like to loan - that is send off with _never_ a hope of getting it back - money to your mum?"

"_No_ Martin," Louisa said with satisfaction. "I prefer a house - our future house."

"Fine. We'll do that," I said and meant it.


	75. Chapter 75

Chapter 75 – Too Many Calls?

We sat in companionable silence for some time, almost dozing after our late night and early morning. The railway made its way through Taunton, after Reading where the noisy doctor and her friends departed, and then began a series of stops at Exeter St. Davids and Newton Abbot. We were approaching Totnes when my mobile rang. "Lord! What now? Ellingham."

"Martin. It's Roger!"

"Roger Fenn," I muttered to Louisa. "Is there a problem?"

"No, no," he drawled. "You know, well this is _awkward_, but I never called you to thank you properly the other day when Bobby got into the chess pieces." As he spoke there was an odd hubbub to the background.

"Yes, well, you _must_ keep small objects away from tiny children, Roger."

"I…" he muttered, and I heard him make a shushing noise. Whatever was making noise in the background grumbled to a lower volume.

I bristled at him. "Is that shush for me?"

"No, no. Martin. Just a bit noisy here in the uhm… _house_… with the boys. Maureen, can you keep those _children_ quiet?"

Now the noise behind him dropped into a sudden calm. "Where are you?"

"At the uhm… _house_… as I said. We, uhmm, well back to the matter at hand. I cannot thank you _enough_ for saving Bobby's life! I owe you one mate!"

"Well…" Louisa caught my eye with an appraising look. "Given I was in Spain… keen thinking on Maureen's part to call. I am - _glad_ - it came out all right."

Roger laughed. "She said the chess pawn shot out of his mouth like a cannon ball! Little buggers get into everything! You'll find out soon enough when James Henry gets on his pins. You'll be chasing him day and night. Believe you me."

He fell silent and I could hear once again a soft sibilant noise in the background; a rising murmur. "You say you're at your house? What's that noise behind you?"

"Oh, that's… er, the dishwasher… we… just bought one this month." He stammered. "The uhm, record label dug up some old track of me and boys… from way back and sent us a handy bit of cash."

"Well where ever did you put the machine, Roger? I've seen your cottage. The kitchen's not large enough to swing a cat."

"Hee, hee. Right! Well we, uhm, managed… say Martin, once again, thanks and all that. Where are you now?"

"Just getting into Totnes. Why do you ask?"

"Oh, I suppose your Aunt Ruth mentioned you were coming home on the AM train; is all. Just wondered."

"Right," I said but I didn't believe him. "What's going on?" I asked with rising suspicion.

"Noth… nothing, Martin! Maureen is motioning me to ring off, so bye! Thanks awfully!"

I stared at the dead mobile and wrinkled my nose.

Louisa stirred from silence. "What's that?"

"Roger. Told me a bald-faced lie about fitting a dishwasher into his kitchen. Strange."

"That's not why he called?"

"No. He thanked me for the long distance lifesaving of his boy when he tried to eat a chess pawn."

"Well that _is_ nice," she said. "Roger and Maureen go so well together. Given those two got such a late start; but everyone knew they were carrying on," she said. "At least most did." She smiled. "Small village."

"_I_ didn't know."

"Well no. _You_ wouldn't." She made a face and started to twist her hair. "You don't exactly care about such things. And I do think that Roger is nearly the first friend you made in the village."

"No," I sniffed. "Not likely ever will, either; none of _my_ business. All that rubbish nattering about." She did say friend?

Louisa gave me a considering look, one that had a hint of a smile. "That's one of the many things I respect about you Martin."

I wrinkled my nose. "All that gossiping. When you left, er, for London…"

It was Louisa's turn to look sad. "I can just imagine."

"Not likely. There were all sorts of rumors swirling about. How we had a fight…"

"Really?"

"That's the least of it. That I must have abused you in some way…"

"Not bloody likely. You're not that sort of fellow. Besides you barely touched me…"

I shook my head. "I'm not at all certain that I was able to…" I cleared my throat, "adequately express my…"

"Yes? Your _what_?" Now she was smiling mischievously.

"My… er, _regard_ for you. High regards."

She leaned forward and her voice falling said, "Oh. I do recall your high regards were not at all averse to several interludes of sexual relations - after all, we did get pregnant, Martin."

"Yes." I had to blink several times as my eyes felt wet. "That wasn't exactly my best _behavior_ was it?"

"Oh, I don't know." She touched my hand briefly. "It was what I wanted, at least the sleeping over, the pregnancy was…"

"Unexpected, yes." I took her hand in mine. "I did defend you – us – you know, after you had left."

"Right. I expect you did. That must have been _so_ hard." She looked away for a moment. "Not half as hard as coming back; for me that is. A pregnant body was not _exactly_ the common stuff of the Portwenn head teacher, was it?"

"Former head teacher, you were then. That horrid Mr. Strain."

"Martin it wasn't his fault that he got ill, was it?" She relaxed slightly but kept holding my hand. "He wasn't half as bad as some sorts in the village. You can't believe some of the nasty things I heard – usually prefaced with the words '_those Glassons_.'"

"Right. Disgusting." I watched her as she must have been recalling some of the meanness. "But your fancy London school was nearly as bad. And you are right about Strain – genetic disorder that."

She nodded. "I should have called…" Her lips started to take a beating from her teeth as she did when nervous.

"Called? Who?"

"You Martin. I _should have_ called _you_." Her mouth was open to say more, when _her_ mobile rang. "Sorry." Her hand dipped into her brown handbag.

"Don't," I said.

"Don't answer it?" She peered at the tiny screen. "Oh, it's Morwenna. Better get this."

"Right. Might be about James."

"Hello Morwenna!" Louisa said her face lighting up. "What's that? Oh. There's spare nappies in his dressing table. Right. See you soon. Right… Yeah, we just left Totnes, I think. Ok. Bye!" She clicked off. "She's at the cottage. Needed some more nappies. Now where were we?"

I frowned with one question in my head. Why was everyone asking where the train is? "Something's going on."


	76. Chapter 76

Chapter 76 - Over

The carriage lurched as we got up to speed leaving the Totnes terminal. I checked my watch saw that in just over an hour we should pull into the Bodmin Parkway Station, after Plymouth and Liskeard. "An hour."

Louisa looked dreamily at me. "Yes…" she sighed. "It's almost over."

"Over? What's that?"

Louisa looked at me with a happy expression. "It has been fun, but Monday morning - ah - back to the grind! As much as I love my school, Monday's can be a disaster. Sick students and all that. And when my teachers wake up with a cold and can't come in, well, that's when the fun begins. I'll have to pitch-in anywhere I have to."

"Disaster means bad stars. Our days are not numbered by the stars Louisa. Even Shakespeare knew that. 'The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars. But in ourselves, that we are underlings.' Cassius said that in _Julius Caesar_. But my Monday's are just the same. Patients who ought to have seen me on Friday and did not, pushing in destroying my schedule, or worse those who I did see before the weekend and have abandoned their medicine and come limping in Monday all the worse." I sighed. "We should call the baby minder - what's her name?"

"Nessa. Nessa Spargo."

"Not that awful Andrea Grappe?"

"Angie. Angie Grappe. No. Not _her_. But Nessa is very good. I've her little girl in the school. With her man up in Scotland for work, she likes the company during the day. I don't know why I didn't think of her when mum was gadding about." She grinned. "But I think she'll do fine, going forward. Nessa spent some time watching the twins for Maureen."

"All the same we should call and confirm she is ready for Monday. We can't have any baby swapping after the, ahem, Mrs. T incident." I saw pain on her face. "And I wouldn't think that baby minding could be as difficult as teaching algebra to a goldfish."

"That is such an odd phrase. Where ever did you hear it?"

"Tommy's wife…"

"Tasha."

"She said it, I think."

"That is just weird."

"She was under the influence of methanol poisoning, remember? I can't imagine that any cogent thought would be possible. And it also almost got you…"

"Poor Tommy, and Tasha too. They're lucky that neither one had lasting effects."

I nodded. "Prompt treatment stopped that."

Louisa laughed. "I'm not sure that either one will go near alcohol, or biofuel, for a while."

"The fool almost…"

"Martin! Don't say it."

"I was only going to say…"

Slim cool fingers were clapped over my lips. "No. Don't say it."

It _was_ a close call, I thought but stayed silent.

"Just like Mrs. Tishell and her… expedition… with our son." She crossed arms angrily.

"Alright."

Louisa sat there crossly. "I know that we can't act like it _never_ happened."

"It did."

"But I _don't_ want to dwell on it."

"As you say."

She sighed and looked out the window briefly. "But…"

"But?"

"If she hadn't," she cleared her throat and dabbed at her eyes. "If Mrs. T hadn't… taken… our little boy…"

I reached over and putting my hand on her knee patted it gently.

"Oh, Martin!" She collapsed back in her seat, her face crumpled into a mass of sorrow.

"There, there," I muttered while Louisa's face ran wet.

I found myself almost totally at sea when women cried. In this case the woman was my wife and cry she did; profusely.

Silent sobs wracked her body and she thrashed about for a little while, finally reaching out and throwing her arms about my body, pulling me to her with her head pushed against mine. "Oh, Martin, but for…"

"Shush now," was all I could say.

Still crying she went on. "That horrid, horrid woman! If she hadn't…" Louisa started to hyperventilate and then fell into hiccups.

Helplessly I started to rub her back and that must have been just the thing to do as her breathing slowed, the hiccups disappeared and her apparent panic was forestalled. I'm not very good at such things but somehow it must have been right, as Louisa turned her wet face to mine and kissed me tenderly.


	77. Chapter 77

Chapter 77 - Arrival

Plymouth Station came and went and then Liskeard. By now most of the passengers had departed the train as who in their right mind cared to go to Bodmin? The schedule, and my watch, showed our arrival in less than fifteen minutes. The Conductor had confirmed that we were on time and I tugged at my tie and straightened it. "Almost done. Our journey."

Louisa's eyes flicked across mine nervously. "Right."

"Something wrong, Louisa?" I almost dreaded an answer.

"No… not really. But it will be an adjustment."

"We _were already_ cohabiting, we have a son together, and…"

"And?"

"Not much of an adjustment seems to me." I must have said this stuffily since Louisa reached out and took my hand. I wondered how many times we had held hands, let alone touched on this trip. Was it a hundred; a thousand? Or more? Too many to count, perhaps.

"Martin. I'm only saying that… well, we _are_ married." She waggled her wedding ring at me and the diamonds flashed in the sunlight streaming into the carriage. "That is different, don't you think?"

"Makes it formal. Official."

"Yeah. Formal." She sighed next. "I do think that _some_ of our… the villagers… well there _will_ be a period of adjustment don't you think? That they may be curious? About us?"

"That's none of their business!"

She blushed. "No Martin, I don't mean," she whipped her head about and scanned the carriage and seeing no one close, other than a couple snogging at the far end, "_that_. I'm your wife and you're my husband. Yes?"

I nodded cautiously. "Go on," I said knowing that it was likely needful for Louisa to verbally express these thoughts.

"Martin, I'm only saying that people _will_ talk. They'll ask us questions such as 'How was your trip?' So you don't have to shout 'NONE of your business!' Okay?"

Heat flashed to my face. "So I'm to detail every intimate moment? Every time we…"

She jumped at my words. "NO! Good God, Martin, that's _not_ what I mean."

"Well what _do_ you mean?"

She ducked her head. "Just say 'it was fine.' Can you do that, for me? Maybe even that you had, erh, fun?"

I looked hard at Louisa Glasson, more recently Louisa Ellingham. "You are worried about me."

"Yeah… a little bit." She chewed at her lip. "About _us_."

"How I'll react to those sorts?" I sighed. "Why do you care what other people think? I have never cared…" My blustery tone fell as I watched a tear well up in one of her eyes so I squeezed her hand. "I… ahem, didn't mean to upset you."

"Well, you have." She dabbed at her face. "You have… Don't you ever… _ever_… care?"

Damn! "I'm mistaken again, I see." I held her hand tightly. "I _do_ care what _you_ think."

"Well, I bloody well hope so! Martin… you must see…"

"What I said about not caring is that I have to lead my life as I see fit." I sighed and then my voice cracked. "For too long I felt that no one _did_ care about me so why should I care about anyone else?"

Louisa looked hard at me but then her face softened. "Oh Martin, you poor dear. But Aunt Joan and her husband Phil, and even Al and Bert, and…"

I felt my face freeze into the usual mask that I showed to the world.

"You really don't follow, do you?" She gulped and her face cracked. "Martin, I , uhm… I _always_ cared and I _always_ will."

Our heart-to-heart moment was interrupted as a loud speaker over our heads buzzed into sound. "Bodmin Parkway – three minutes," the crackly voice announced. "The time is now 11:56."

"So…" I gulped out, "even when… I've been gruff and rude."

"Oh yes, Martin. Especially then. I didn't really think that you meant it. That perhaps…" more tears flowed down her smooth cheeks, "you were just trying to keep everybody at bay; as far away as you could make us. I think you do that… sometimes."

The train began to slow as I stood and pulled Louisa to her feet. "We'd better go."

"Right." She pulled her coat about her and hefted her handbag. "Need help?" she asked as I pulled our cases from the storage rack.

"No. No help. Got them." I felt items inside the cases shift, evidence of the hurried packing we'd performed just moments after Louisa pushed me out of bed, our alarm clock unrung.

She took my arm as we stood in the corridor. "You're wrong Martin. Sorry to call you on it."

"What's that?" The station slowly hove into view and I got a glimpse of Aunt Ruth's Mercedes. She was here, so that was good. "Wrong? What about?" I moved towards the door the cases banging against my knees.

"Help, dear husband." She stretched up and kissed my cheek. "You _always_ did need _some_ help. We all do – at times."

I looked deep into her concerned eyes. "I hope that I'm not a disappointment to you."

"No," she smiled as the train stopped. "Not at all, now that I know you so much better. And I hope you realize that the honeymoon doesn't have to end."

Her warm body pressed close to mine as I opened my mouth to reply when I heard my Aunt Ruth call out our names.


	78. Chapter 78

Chapter 78 – Revelation

"Martin! Louisa!" my aunt, the criminal psychologist called out. "Over here!"

I turned and saw her wave when she saw me open the carriage door. "We'd…"

"Yeah," said Louisa. "We'd better go." Louisa did take her smaller case as we alighted from the train. "Back in Cornwall."

I ducked my head. "Where did you think we'd end up? Cornwall it is and in an hour or less, Portwenn." My watch showed it to be precisely noon, so the Great Western schedule had been held.

She smiled as Ruth pounced on us.

"There you are," Ruth said drily. "I can see the both of you got some UV rays down in Spain. I always liked the Med. Been a while since I've been there."

"Hello Ruth. Good to see you," replied Louisa as she threw an arm around Ruth's shoulders "Thanks so much for minding James so we could get away!"

"Glad to help, I suppose." My aunt, being an Ellingham, was less effusive with words of praise or emotion than my late Aunt Joan, yet she surprised me when she said, "James Henry was fine, you know. I didn't quite think that I had it in me to be a child minder. He knackered me from time to time, usually at 4 AM. Little bugger. Now I can understand why new mums get so damn testy. Your mother, Martin, wasn't keen at all, as I recall – always with the nannies and such."

I blew air through my nose at the mention of my horrible mum. I could hardly call her a mother, for her actions and manner distinctly, and always, showed that she would rather not have been one. She had given birth but that was about all. "The car?" I asked to change the subject.

"Around the corner, Martin. The fourth spot." She started leading us between the station building and the tea shop.

Louisa stopped briefly to stare at the tea and cake shop.

"Problem?" I asked her while Ruth stalked ahead on her pencil-thin legs inside her typical gray wool skirt.

Louisa looked to be a million miles away for a moment. "No," her voice said softly. "Just thinking of a journey I took last year around this time."

"Ah, yes. Do you wish to talk about it?"

Louisa looked at me sheepishly. "No, Martin. We already have. Ruth is waiting. To the car."

The Mercedes was mud spattered and there was a long scratch down one side. "What's this from?"

Ruth shook her gray head. "Oh the locals nearly ran me off the road. A gorse bush."

"They tend to do that at times. Narrow lanes," I told her.

"And totally barmy drivers," Ruth sniffed. "I think they love to play those sorts of games with the townies, which is exactly what one of the men said to me in the fish market the next day. He muttered about playing rugby with an old lady's car. Asked if I enjoyed the game."

I hefted the cases into the boot while Louisa looked hard at the scratch down two doors and the rear panel. She used her teacher's conciliatory manner when she said "That is a shame. You should take it up with him. I'm sure he'll pay."

Ruth grinned crookedly. "Oh he did. He bought me a nice bottle of red. Of course the man drank nearly half, but I held my own. And I got a fifty from him for the damage."

Louisa's mouth fell half-open. "In the pub. You drank with him in the pub."

"No, at the farmhouse," Ruth told her. Then she smiled wickedly. "But no more of that story. I'd not want you telling tales about me seducing the local fishermen."

I wrinkled my nose at the thought. "God no!"

Ruth slid in behind the wheel as Louisa and I climbed into the back, the front seat being taken up with baby seat. "Oh relax, Martin! No need to be a prude. Is he always like this Louisa? I'd think he might have learned a thing or two about people."

I turned a shocked look from Louisa to my aunt's reflected eyes in the mirror.

"Besides," those eyes said with a twinkle, "you being a doctor and all, I'd have thought you'd figure out that I may be old, but I'm not dead. Far from it and he was a big strong fisherman. But his hands were a bit rough textured."

Louisa clapped a hand across my knee and her fingers dug in painfully. "Just put your seat harness on Martin." Her voice was soft but urgent.

"You probably know him Louisa. Said his grandson is in your school. Rory Curnow, the fisherman, not the grandchild."

Louisa nodded. "His grandson is Jaime Curnow. Nice family."

I did as instructed while the thought of Aunt Ruth cavorting with a local, in fact with any man, sent shivers of disbelief up my spine. Ruth was _sexually active_, just as Joan had been… My heart beat faster, recalling the disgusting spectacle of Joan and the painter Edward who had the Oedipal Complex. For a few seconds I could not quite get enough air, so I rolled the window down a few inches.

"Stuffy back there?" inquired Ruth with a wicked smile.

"No, just… warm," I choked out. "So when you were watching… James… this happened?"

"Nooo Martin, just before you left on holiday. I'd not want to shock you, now would I?" Ruth chuckled. "You see Louisa, we Ellingham's are…"

"Oh God," I muttered under my breath. Whatever had gotten into the old girl?

Ruth backed into traffic, made an illegal U-turn and turned the car towards the B3268. "I hope I haven't shocked you two."

"Oh no." Louisa forced a faint smile.

Once more those Ellingham eyes faced us in the mirror. "You have to understand Louisa, that someday your husband will be dead and gone. So don't assume that when _he_ dies _your_ life is over. I've never been married, but I think a sophisticated woman such as yourself will get the idea."

Louisa's fingertips dug more forcefully into my knee and so I bit my tongue, no words could escape. But this revelation nearly made me explode.

"Feeling better back there, Martin?" the old girl went on. "You do look pale. Here! I'll turn up the ventilator fan."

Louisa's clenched grip softened and rubbed the offended kneecap. "It's okay, Martin," I heard her mutter softly.

My neck swiveled towards my wife and I saw concern and support with a hint of glee on her features. "Right. Of course." My hand found hers.

**Author's notes:**

**The Great Western Railway runs many trains but I found a Saturday morning schedule from Paddington Station to Bodmin Parkway that runs thusly.**

**Timetable:**

**Paddington 7:30**

**Reading 7:57**

**Taunton 9:50**

**Exeter St Davids 10:16**

**Newton Abbot 10:38**

**Totnes 10:52**

**Plymouth 11:20**

**Liskeard 11:46**

**Bodmin Parkway 11:59**

**If travelling in the UK, please consult an up-to-the date schedule! **


	79. Chapter 79

Chapter 79 – Lessons

Louisa looked at me warily. "Are you doing okay?"

"Yeah. Super," was all I told her for I was not about to express my embarrassment on hearing of my aunt's apparent tryst. The Ellingham's were clearly all sex-craved lunatics! I turned my head a fraction to see Louisa's beholding me with a twinkle in her eye. I certainly hoped that I would not be turn out the same as my older relatives, yet presently the delightful woman next to me appeared to have some feeling about snogging me at every opportunity. What was the harm?

"What's that?" Ruth asked loudly. "I've lost a bit of hearing in the last few years - been meaning to have you check it for me, Martin. So, how was your holiday? I've already said I can tell you got some sun."

"Oh it was loads of fun, wasn't it, Martin? And it was warm. Had a few adventures, wouldn't you say so, Martin?" Louisa answered her. "But we can't wait to see James. I do wish you'd brought him along."

Ruth snickered slightly. "I recall a small hotel and a beach, years ago down that way. The sangria was cold and the sun was hot; quite hot." She sighed. "And the young men were… let's just say they were sizzling as well. I don't speak any Spanish to speak of but somehow that didn't seem to get in the way."

"I do wish as well, you'd have brought our baby to the station!" I blurted out not wanted to hear anymore of my aged aunt's past romantic encounters.

"Oh the child needed his rest, Martin. He's been sort of cranky at times, I mentioned that. Maybe he knew I wasn't his mum? Dicey occasionally - but we got through it. Bert Large and Morwenna were a big help in the evenings and more than once Al took the child for a few minutes."

"So, do you ever, wish you had, uhmm… marriage and children? None of my business, of course," said Louisa in reply.

"No it's not," agreed Ruth. "You can't go back into the past. No way to undo what's been done. There may have been a time…"

I watched as Ruth wiped at her cheek as Louisa uttered a small sigh of compassion.

"Damn hay fever - been bothering me awfully." Aunt Ruth sniffed loudly. "Funny though. Joan and I never had kids and I know how desperately she wanted them. But poor Phil couldn't get her pregnant. I had a chance or two - marriage that is - but that passed me by or I got out of the way of it. So of the three of us only Christopher and Margaret had a child - _you_, Martin." She sniffed. "Not that they seemed to care much for the process, before, during or after."

I grunted aloud as painful memories of my so-called family surfaced. I took a deep cleansing breath and the words of the therapist came to mind as my guts roiled and sweat sprang to my forehead. _'You are in the operating theater. The patient is prepped. The nursing staffed and registrars are waiting for you to proceed. You approach the table, pick up the scalpel and YOU are IN CONTROL as you begin to operate.' _

Louisa sensed my discomfort and changed the subject once again. "What's been happening in the village?"

"Oh, yes. I did hear the locum has been kept busy; likely more for spectator sport than anything, I imagine. I met her - Elizabeth Bell. Young, blonde, _and_ vivacious. I'm sure the young bucks have been circling about and probably the not so young as well. Plus a new face in Portwenn attracts bees like a field of flowers."

"We spoke long distance," I said.

Louisa nodded. "That _was_ nice of you to her give her advice, I think."

Aunt Ruth's aged face caught mine the mirror. "My word. Martin Ellingham being nice. Sorry I missed it. Perhaps in another five years or so it may happen once more."

I wrinkled my nose at her. "She had a question about a patient."

Louisa nudged me. "Well you did call her back later and talk some more one evening."

"What's the matter Martin? Afraid you'll ruin your reputation as a hard and cantankerous person?" Ruth sneered sarcastically. "I've found that there can be times that such behavior is useful; but generally not. I did have some patients in prison that would cut your throat as soon as look at you. And look at me - dried up stick that I am - how far do you think I'd have gotten with those if I hadn't put on a hard face? Hmm?"

"Not far," I said.

Ruth nattered on. "And Martin I did hear that this Dr. Bell told Morwenna that she was looking for a part-time assignment. She wondered if the PCT might be interested. Perhaps she should talk to your friend Chris Parsons."

"I can't speak for Parsons," I said back. By now we were on A39 heading northwest and Portwenn was less than twenty minutes away. "I'm not sure that there are enough patients for two…"

Ruth cut me off. "Did I say that she wanted to work in Portwenn, Martin? I heard she was looking for some part-time experience is all. She has a part-time in Wadebridge that's why the poor thing was available on such notice, what with you and Louisa joining the nuptial ranks so quickly, and then practically fleeing to sunny climes."

Louisa sighed. "Ah, the gossip is swirling already, I can feel it."

I squeezed her hand. "Just ignore it."

"You do that. You're good at it." She glanced my way.

"I'll… teach you if you wish?"

Louisa laughed. "Ok. Lesson number one, ignore the gossips. Tick that box."

"No reason that you can't learn a few things from me, given how much I've learned from you." I whispered this softly and she smiled.

"Sure. Alright," she said back. "A few lessons more, I think, might be needed, if you're game."

From the way her hand started to brush against my thigh I was certain she meant those of the horizontal variety. "Ah. I might." She had – _taught_ – me so many things. Who was I to argue if she wished to pick a few pointers from me?

We passed a road sign saying 'Portwenn – 12 miles.'


	80. Chapter 80

Chapter 80 - Bits and Bobs

Ruth peered at us from time to time along the A389, heading in the general direction of St. Kew. After a companionable few minutes of silence she said, "Well I can see that you two are getting on, erh, well, have been… I mean… you seem more like a married couple than I've seen before."

"Yes, we are," Louisa said slowly and her lovely face turned to mine. "We are."

"Yes, we are," I echoed.

"More than just a ceremony, then?" Ruth's gray head nodded. "I'd thought you might have just done it for the child, but given the performance you put on Martin at The Castle, you had even me believing in you."

"I meant it," I replied.

"I can see that," Ruth snorted. "The way you've been stroking one another back there. Not your usual bedside manner, I'm sure. Well," she smiled, "if I'd taken one-tenth of the chances I'd been offered I'd not have to meet fisherman for entertainment."

Automatically my hand tried to unclasp Louisa's but she snatched it back. "Aunt Ruth! My God!"

"Sorry," Ruth said. "You know me. I either say far too little or too much. Suppose I should clam up more, but at my age I figure what the hell, I can do as I wish."

Louisa laughed. "Yes… you are… frank. And there are times I can see a flash of Joanie in you Ruth."

"Oh really?" She sniffed. "Hm. She the endomorph and me the ectomorph. Funny you should say that for as time goes by I can see what my sister thought of the country. Can't say much for the local drivers, ahem, but the views from the farm house are rather fantastic. Every time I get stuck on that damn book I can go straight away for a walk."

"How _is_ your book coming?" Louisa leaned forward. "About your working years, is it?"

"Hard to say. So much I can't talk about - legal matters and all that - but I've been toying with the idea of writing a mystery instead."

"So you've wasted the time you've put into it?"

"Lord no, Louisa. The sum total of my pages can't be more than twenty or thirty," my aunt sighed. "I'm likely not cut out to be an author."

"Why's that?" I asked. "You can set your mind to almost anything." I flashed on the boy on the plane who wanted to be an astronaut. "That is if you have the smarts; you have those."

Ruth sighed as she wrestled the car through a roundabout. "Well… but writing is _work_. Far harder than I imagined it might be. Not nearly as much fun as feeding chickens and thank God I've got Al Large to do that. All this puffery about country living and clean air has nothing to do with smelly chickens and leaky roofs."

I recalled how Joan had struggled, silently, with dodgy schemes and failing expenses. "Joan's farm does need work, I am sure."

"Do you think you'll keep it?" Louisa asked. "Joanie wanted to be a bed and breakfast but she, well, didn't quite have that in hand, now did she?"

Aunt Ruth frowned at us through the mirror's reflection. "No, definitely not. I loved my sister, but from the terrible state of financial matters, and the general wrack and ruin out there, there was little chance she'd been able to pull it off. Poor dear."

Louisa rubbed my knee companionably. "Yeah. Pity that she had to go when she did."

I put my hand on top of hers. "Seventy-four was a good age." I sighed. "Her diet certainly didn't contribute to any great life extension."

Ruth coughed. "No. Pity."

Louisa nodded. "She'd have loved to see James."

Joan's death, alone, in her car on the road verge was a sad end to my younger aunt. My mouth opened painfully but no words came forth.

Louisa gripped my hand. ""It's alright."

"No. No it's not," I nearly shouted. "A diet low in cholesterol and high in fiber would have contributed to a longer life. You surely know that." I shook my head. "How many times do I have to repeat myself?"

Ruth started. "Martin! Must you keep singing that old song? How often have you dug into that muck pile! Honestly Martin. Enough preaching about it! We've _all_ heard it, so give it a rest, would you?"

"I was only stating the obvious," I said sheepishly. "And these are the things…"

Louisa dug fingernails into my hand making me yell.

"Louisa! Oww!"

Ruth chuckled. "Good for you, Louisa. Keep that man well in hand." She twitched the wheel throwing us together like nine-pins. "Sorry. Bit of gravel on the road. Hope I didn't shake you up."

Louisa started to mutter. "That's just what Roger Fenn said… a gravel road. But…" she glanced my way briefly with an awestruck look, "we did get to the end of the journey, didn't we?" She picked up her left hand and held it out so her diamonds sparkled.

"Right. Nearly there, you two. End of the journey." Aunt Ruth pointed to a road sign indicating our turning onto the B3314. "Nearly."

"Right," I said and it fit both Louisa's and Ruth's words.

Louisa clenched my fingers.


	81. Chapter 81

Chapter 81 - Return at Last

"Won't be long now, you two," Ruth said. "I hope that you can cherish your time alone together for you'll be back in the fishbowl once more."

The road led to the B3314 which we followed briefly, and then Ruth turned left onto the narrow lane marked B3267. After a half mile, the black and white sign at the top of the hill read:

**Welcome to**

**Portwenn**

**Please drive carefully**

**through our village**

Louisa sighed happily. "Home."

I once considered Portwenn to be a place of exile - exile from my chosen profession as a vascular surgeon. I shifted my gaze more fully to the young woman sitting at my side. Louisa - Louisa Glasson Ellingham, who was now my wife and the mother of my child. She was a fine woman and I sincerely hope that I, no _we_, were up to the challenges ahead for they would be many. I once thought I was alone here, in spite of my late aunt being a resident, and that I could literally hide out here at the coast. I thought that in time, perhaps, I'd be able to lick my wounds clean and return to a more civilized clime, if not actual surgery. I felt I was now able to perform surgery, and operating on Louisa's awful mum proved that, yet did I want to? Performing an excision of Eleanor's hiatal hernia was straight forward without a drop of untoward perspiration nor a bolus of vomitus to mar the scene. yet not a week later I was standing before a coastal folly and professing my love to two people. One was a drug driven mad woman who had fixated her affections onto me. The other… the other was the sweet and gentle woman next to me in the back seat of my aunt's Mercedes. And… in that admission of love I swore to stay… with her… with Louisa and our son.

In Hamlet is the line 'The course of true love never did run smooth.' Is that not the course of events between us? Home she called the village home, then _home_ it shall be.

"Yeah." The word slid from my lips effortlessly in a way I never thought possible. Louisa's hand was warm in mine and her skin was soft to the touch. "Louisa, I want to say…"

"Yes, Martin?" Louisa said expectantly.

My voice felt strong as I continued speaking. "I am so glad that we were able to… work out…"

Aunt Ruth's mobile rang just then. "God!" she muttered. "Bloody things!" The steering wheel twitched as she shifted her grip from two-handed to one-handed and scooped up her phone. "Hello? Al? What's that? Oh my. He's right here. Al wants you Martin."

I rolled my eyes at the electronic summons as I snatched the mobile from her hand. "Ellingham."

"Doc? It's Al. Al Large."

"Yes, Al, what is it?"

"It's your locum, Doc - Lizzie Bell. I was helping Michael and Eric, the brothers. You know - the roofers? We was up at the Village Hall. And well, seems that Lizzie, I mean Doc Bell, she went all queer and fell over. Standin' there one minute peering up at us and down she went. I called Morwenna and she said I should call Ruth 'cause she was picking you and Louisa up in Bodmin."

"Is she breathing?" I asked. "Make sure her airway is clear. Hopefully she's on her side and not her back."

"Yeah, she _is_ breathing. I think. Her lips look a bit blue maybe." Al went on while Louisa badgered me with questions. "We put a jacket under her head - the slate is awful hard. She went down just by the door. And she's on her side."

"Martin, what's going on?" Louisa butted in.

"Shush!" I hissed at my wife.

"Sorry," muttered Louisa in reply and I saw the hurt look in her eyes.

I addressed my aunt. "Ruth, you'll have to drop me off at the Hall." My medical case wouldn't be there. "Al, we'll be there in minutes, but I won't have my case. And make sure that if she vomits she doesn't aspirate - breathe - any of it in!"

"Ah, OK, Doc. Will do! I called my dad and he scooped up Morwenna and your bag. I don't know rightly what we planned to do with your medical case, but Morwenna figured she could render first aid. She's been readin' up on it and she did the same when her granddad went down. You remember."

I snapped the phone closed. "Straight back into the thick of it."

"Oh dear," Louisa sighed. "No rest for the wicked."

I took a deep breath. This might be intoxication, drug abuse, or any number of medical conditions. Did Dr. Bell have an underlying medical condition? Bad heart, high blood pressure, or renal failure? Or had she just been seated and too rapid a rise to standing had given her orthostatic hypotension? Or was she hypoglycemic? "Aunt Ruth, please drive a bit faster?" But my questions would have to wait until we got there. What was it with women doctor's in Portwenn? They drop like flies! It remained to be seen if Bell was any better than that idiotic Di Dibbs, yet it appeared that Bell was to be my next patient regardless of her medical prowess. I sighed. "In for a penny," I muttered.

Ruth did her best to imitate a Grand Prix driver until she screeched to a halt in front of the Village Hall. "Fast enough, nephew?"

I could only sneer at her jibe as I sprang from the car.


	82. Chapter 82

Chapter 82 - Puppet

"Move!" I yelled at the crowd of spectators who always mysteriously gathered whenever someone was on the ground. "What is it with you people?" I shouted at them until they parted. "Move it!"

My gaze was drawn to the young female on the ground. She was in her late twenties, at a guess, with long blonde hair and dark roots, half-closed blue eyes that stared at nothingness, and cold clammy hands. I knelt down, the cold slate chilling my knees with sharp protuberances from the pavers grinding into them (here goes another pair of suit trousers ruined). The girl stared through me, with sonorous breath sounds, her face slack. I pushed into the carotid and felt a good pulse, and brachial pulses, taken at the wrist were much the same. Her arms and legs seemed to be stick-like and her wrist was very thing with little muscle or fat.

"Wot you think Doc?" Al Large asked, his scruffy bearded face just inches from mine. "We was puttin' up the Christmas light, you see. Doc Bell come by to watch and she was… about and such…" he hemmed and hawed.

"Al! Get to the point? What did you see happen?"

"I was gettin' to that Doc. She come out of the Hall, turned her face up and was talkin' to Eric – he was on a ladder about lights and such – when the Christmas Light-Up was to be – that sort of thing. Then she sorta waved her arms about then she come a cropper. You might say she slumped down a dead weight. Like a puppet with the strings cut."

"You mean she fell down?" Louisa asked from my other side.

"Yeah," said Al. "Whirled her arms like."

Eric and Robert Roach peered down at me, the twin brothers who were responsible for most of the slate roof repairs in the village lately.

"Just like he said," Eric said.

Robert added, "Just like he said. Fell down straight away. Poor."

"Poor thing," his brother Eric finished.

These two had a touch of echolalia – the automatic repeating of what others said. Since they were identical twins and worked together, it seemed almost like speaking to one person. Given their appearance, I could never recall which was which, but since they were always together – they were simply called _the Roaches_. Not the oddest of the odd here in Portwenn, but they moved here and about in a caravan, with a girlfriend, so technically they weren't actual villagers.

The girlfriend created much speculation about whose girl she was, not that I listened to it, for that was none of my business. I had treated the girl – name of Frieda or something – for rhinitis and otitis media. The brothers accompanied her both times to surgery and I nearly had to force them back so I could examine the girl alone. I had enquired as to her status.

"What?" the girl had asked. "Status?" She spoke to me as I examined her inflamed inner ear. "Ouch! That's sore!"

"The brothers. They seem to be very…" I cleared my throat, "attentive."

"Nice boys."

"What I was asking was, are you, ahem…"

"Oh! You mean… yeah, well, not quite the usual are we?" She grinned. "But I do need a refill on those birth control pills."

"No, I was…"

"Listen, Doc, those two take better care of me than anyone else ever has. I'm guessing some wouldn't exactly like what we do, in the caravan. And the way that I see it…"

"No. I was asking if you are fit, other than your ear infection."

The girl smiled; a pretty thing if a bit thin. "I'm fine. We're fine." She emphasized the word _we're._ "They're good sorts, both of them. And they take care of me… and I care for them - both of them." Frieda sat there smiling thoughtfully.

"None of my business." I moved to my desk and wrote out a script for medication. "This antibiotic is to be taken four times a day, with food, for ten days. It should clear up your infection." I flipped through her medical cards. "Any side effects when you're are taking the birth control tablets?"

"No. I just…" she looked away, "uhm, not ready to have a baby yet."

"Fine. None of my business."

"I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't go blathering any nasty gossip about us."

"I don't spread gossip nor do I create it." I held out the prescriptions to her. "Here. If the ear isn't better in a few days, make an appointment."

I pushed that odd conversation from my mind - not that it was that odd for the village of Portwenn. A place where a cop fell in love with a felon or for that matter a lovely and sweet teacher fell in love with a grumpy bugger of a GP. "Dr. Bell?" I asked into my patient's face. I took her pulse more fully when I got no response. "Odd."

"What's that Martin?" Louisa asked and now Ruth was leaning over _her_.

"Shall I call 9-9-9?" Ruth asked. "Or are things in hand?" she said with a smirk.

From the amused look on her face that made me think that something wasn't quite right. I lifted my face and scanned the crowd. Other than for Al's usually whiskered appearance, all the men seemed to be newly shaved, the women were wearing makeup and jewelry, and their clothing appeared to be better than what I might expect to see them wearing at mid-day on a Saturday. But I returned my attention to my patient whose breathing seemed regular, if deep. I noticed that her pulse as well seemed steady, yet… I was taking it again when a loud voice rang out.

"Steady there! Have no fear! The Devon & Cornwall Constabulary is on the job!"

I groaned as Joe Penhale barged his way through the people clustered about, for the number of people clustering seemed to be increasing.

"Hello Joe," Louisa said. "It's Penhale, Martin."

"Yes," I hissed. "I heard."

Louisa patted my shoulder. "Steady on."

PC Joseph Penhale, the village's erstwhile constable, squatted down by Louisa and me. "Have no fear, everyone! The doc and I are here! Hello, Doctor Ellingham. The Dynamic Duo back in action once more." He batted his eyes at me like he was gob smacked. "Oh, it's the _new_, doc. I mean the temp GP. You're our _real_ GP… ahem, so how was Spain?"

"Fine. Now about this woman…"

"Doctor Elizabeth Bell; works part days over in Wadebridge. Seems to me that she has some sort of relationship with the chemist."

"She's a friend with Mrs. Tishell?"

"No. No, I mean, the _new_ chemist, he's signed a contract with Clive Tishell to rent out the shop. His name's Timothy Snells. Guess you haven't met him. He just started last Monday, uhm, when you were away – in Spain." Joe's eyes looked about warily, and he whispered. "You know – with Mrs. T off in la-la land."

"The woman is ill, Joe!" Louisa blurted out in a fury. "She's sick… right, Martin?

"Right. Now back to this Doctor Bell… her pulse seems normal, but her breathing is…" I bent my head and sniffed at her mouth, "alcoholic. Does she drink?"

"Not that much or that often," said a man's voice behind my head.

I craned my neck at the black-haired, gray-eyed man by my ear. "And you are?" I asked suspiciously.

"Tim Snells, her boyfriend - sort of," the man replied. "So what's wrong with her Doc? Will Lizzie be okay?"

"Doc? Doc! Let me through!" I heard Morwenna's voice ring out as she came through the crown. She plunked my medical case by my side. "Lord, don't she look a sight. All splayed out - out cold, eh Doc?"

"Yes, Morwenna." I turned up Doctor Bell's sleeves and examined her arms. "Does she use drugs?"

"No! No way!" exclaimed the pharmacist. "I'd know."

"Right." Her arms were unmarked by any needle tracks, unless she was injecting herself in the thigh. I'd have to remove her trousers to ascertain that. Still, with her pulse rate normal… there was just one thing to do. My patient remained unmoving and unresponsive, so I opened my medical case, opened a drawer, and bent down and broke a capsule of smelling salts under her nose.


	83. Chapter 83

Chapter 83 – A Fine Welcome

Morwenna asked, "What's that?"

"Smelling salts - _sal volatile_," I answered.

The prostrate form of Dr. Bell twitched and coughed. "Gahh!" she gasped, eyelids fluttering and hands reaching out to push the capsule away. "Whaa… what?"

"Dr. Bell?" I peered into her now slightly more aware eyes, "You collapsed. I'm Dr. Ellingham."

Bell coughed once more and shook her head. "What happened again?"

"Smelling salts! Oh, yeah, I'd have thought of that," exclaimed Morwenna. "Maybe. Works quick though, don't it?"

"Ammonium carbonate, which releases ammonia when exposed to air. It irritates the mucous membranes, activates faster breathing, and helps to re-oxygenate tissues that may be depleted. Also constricts certain blood vessels in the brain…" I stopped speaking when it became obvious I was wasting my breath on the onlookers.

"No Doc. Go on. I was following it, most of it," Morwenna said brightly. "Is that why when I clean the toilet with ammonia it makes me gasp?"

"Yes, the action of ammonia makes the respiratory system more active, mainly because the gas is toxic to us, at least in large concentrations." It was a fine welcome back in Portwenn – the usual routine. Me saving some fool from a simple malady that they had turned into a disaster by their own foolishness while I tried to educate the masses. I sighed. It was useless – _mostly_ – but for the bright smile of Louisa. "She's coming around."

Snells fell down to the patient. "Liz? Lizzie? Sweetie?" He peered at the woman intently and touched her hand. "Oh, luv."

"Timmy," the woman coughed. "What's going …?"

"You're at the village hall," I told her. "Looks like a faint. You collapsed."

Louisa asked "Will she be okay, Martin?"

"Yes… I think this young woman hasn't been eating enough. Just look at those arms. Dieting, have you?"

"Some," the lady doctor told me. "I've been trying to diet down to a smaller size."

I moved closer to her and sniffed at her breath once more. "Pineapple, oranges, whiskey." I sniffed again. "And mouthwash. You _have_ been drinking," I said quietly.

"Uh, Liz and I did have a few beers last night at the pub, sort of a… well, a celebration," Snells told me. "I got this job and she's been working over in Wadebridge, while I was stuck way up in Cardiff. But now…"

"Ah. So you stayed up half the night drinking, that it?" I sneered. "Alcohol to excess can ruin your health!" I admonished them. "Have a care. You're a _pharmacist_ and she's a _physician_! Have you _no sense_?"

Dr. Bell took his hand tenderly. "Well, if you must know we did get engaged last night, and NO we didn't drink half the night, did we love?" Even though recovering from her faint, she smiled brightly at the man.

"Oh God," I groaned. "I hope you took contraceptive measures."

"That's none of your business, now is it?" shouted Snells. "Butt out!"

"Right. Well. You seem fitter, now," I told the woman. "But you said you were drinking beer – and last night at that. Why do you smell of fruit punch at noon? The whiskey is quite noticeable."

A bustle in the crowd brought Bert Large into view. He was saying, "And here's your mum and dad, James Henry! They seem to be a bit busy at the moment, though." He took up the baby's pudgy arm and waved it at us, saying "Hiya Mum! Hiya Dad!" in a squeaky voice.

"Oh!" Louisa leapt up and snatched our son from the fat man's hands. "Oh, James! I've missed you!" She nuzzled his neck and our son gurgled at her. Louisa hugged him fiercely and I wished I could join her right then in doing so.

"We both have," I said and the impact of my words upon the onlookers made them look as if I had exploded a bomb in their midst. "What? You don't think that we, _I_, would miss him?"

"Well, _no_, Doc," muttered Al as he scratched at his neck, "just that _you_ can be a bit… uhm… reserved."

"Held back," added Bert.

"Weird," said the Roaches in unison.

"Proud," Joe Penhale said.

"Tosser," muttered someone from the back.

"No, more… quiet like," said Morwenna.

I looked around the crowd of Bert and Al, the Roaches, Eddie and Gloria Rix, various teachers and shop keepers, a few fishermen, Dave the Postman, and Mr. Colley the school porter. Seemingly half the village had gathered packed in as tightly as possible, all gaping at us. And each and every one - even that simpering Penhale - was smiling mawkishly.

"But that's alright, you know," said Morwenna brightly. "We wouldn't have you any other way!" She smirked then as she hugged me briefly. "Well… I mean you could do with a smile or even a little grin once in a while – not that you have to make a habit of it."

Louisa looked down at the patient, who now half sat up, with the aid of the new chemist. My wife rolled her eyes at the tight packed group. "Oh, no. Oh no."

"What's that?" I asked. "What you mean?"

She stepped to my side and tugged at my arm so I stood. "I think…"

The grinning fools about us stayed still, breaths held for a moment. "What's going on?"

The moment was frozen; time seemed to pause, like in Louisa's silly time travel telly show; the one she liked so much.

"I think Martin… that…" she said.

"You've been had, nephew," mumbled Aunt Ruth then the whole group shouted "Welcome home!"


	84. Chapter 84

Chapter 84 – Greeting and Farewell

"Oh good God!" I kept saying, over and over, as the doors flew open and even more of the locals emerged from hiding. Under a shower of confetti, party popper streamers, and balloons Louisa and I were pushed into the Village Hall. I tried to dig in my heels at each push and shove, but I was out-numbered.

Penhale even went so far as to tell me, "Go on, Doctor Ellingham! I'd hate to have to mace you and ruin our, that is, _your_ little party. Right? Please don't make me."

I cast an anguished look at Louisa to see her smiling, as she was happily embracing her teachers, neighbors, and friends.

Meanwhile I struggled to flee. "Oh, God," I said despairingly.

"What's that Martin?" Louisa shouted back at me over the din.

The Hall stage was set with a four piece band and there Roger Fenn stood, waving us all closer, while he shouted into a microphone. "Come on you lot! Closer!" The back wall and ceiling was hung in streamers with a huge "Congratulations!" banner as well in letters a meter high.

I tried to make another dart to the side, but found myself in the grip of two of the largest fishermen in the village.

"Steady on, Doc," one blew into my face and ear, his boozy breath almost knocking me over from the fumes. "Can't have you flying away, can we?"

The one on my other arm laughed aloud. "Oh, he won't do that, will you Doc? Hah! When we seen your face… hah! I could see _you_ was ready to party!" He poked my ribs with a work-calloused hand. "Like I bet you and the missus, _partied_, eh?" He winked meaningfully and sneered. "A _whole lot_ of partying?" His whiskers wagged annoyingly by my face as I recoiled at his tobacco odor.

The words "_sod off_" were almost out of my mouth, when the room fell silent, as Roger and Maureen Fenn held out their hands and pulled us onto the low stage.

"Martin and Louisa, or should I say, Doctor and Mrs. Ellingham?" Roger called out, and that brought another large cheer as I saw Morwenna bouncing James up and down and waving to us.

Louisa reached over and took my hand and but for that I would have told them aloud everything demeaning thing I ever thought to call them, out loud.

But her hand gripped mine, not painfully, yet firmly and companionably. "Sorry," she whispered. "Had no idea they'd ever do anything like…"

"Louisa, Martin! Greetings to you and all who are here!" Roger went on. "We all know what you do for us – both of you – each and every day in Portwenn." He threw his arm around Maureen. "And but for…" he looked away. "Sorry," he bit his lip, "but for…" Now his face got wet.

Maureen shook her head. "Oh Roger, you poor dear. Look here. I know if it wasn't for you, Doc, talkin' me through pickin' up our Bobby and shaking him upside down, we'd a lost him…" Here she had to wipe at her own wet cheeks and eyes. "Life's too _bloody short_ to not say all that we should!" She sniffled mightily but went on. "But I rung you and you answered and now he's right as rain! So thank you Doc!"

Roger snatched the microphone back from his wife. "And Louisa, we know how hard you fight for our school – the grants you write – the deals you work, to keep our teachers and the school running for our kids - all the Portwenn kids! And someday your James will be going through those doors for the first time – to be taught in the school where his mum is Head Teacher!"

Glasses of punch had been passed out by now and cups were shoved into our hands as well.

"So here, you lot!" Maureen raised her glass. "Here's to Doctor Ellingham - our Doc Martin - and to his lovely bride, Louisa Glasson Ellingham!"

More cheering came then then plus shouting, as I repressed a shudder putting the cup to my mouth, and though it was whiskey laced, it was not as powerfully alcoholic as it might have been. I managed a sip and it wasn't half bad.

"Speech! Speech!" shouts rang out.

"Well, I…" Louisa chuckled, "uhm… this is a surprise!"

"Yeah. Swell," said I, sourly.

Louisa's hand squeezed mine and this time not quite so cozily so I shut my mouth.

"We, uh," Louisa stammered while the packed Hall waited on her words. "This is all so…" she sniffled, "nice. Thank you!"

"It's not like we got to give you a real wedding shower or a wedding reception, now did we?" yelled Bert and everyone laughed. "So this is it! And we've got a great big feed laid on, so don't think - Doc - that _you_ can go slinking off!" That drew more laughs.

"Martin, have you anything to say?" Louisa asked softly, and with anxiety.

"Come on Martin," urged Roger. "Give us the fruits of your wisdom. You always do!"

More laughter, some nervously, as I could see they all feared what I might – no they all _knew_ – what I would say.

In the back of their minds they were repeating all the degrading, yet in some ways, factual ways I flew off the handle. A bull in a china shop, I'd heard one describe me once, while in the next breath praised me for properly treating her advanced diabetes and saving what eyesight she had left. The people of Portwenn, most of them, were accepting of me for my foibles – yes foibles and failings. Those were the weaknesses I had - haemophobia, nervousness, social ineptness, and having a way of saying _exactly_ the wrong thing at the wrong time. But they were of and in Portwenn. So what did I expect?

A grumpy tosser stood to the side in my head and spoke silently to me. _'Well Martin, will you live down to your reputation, or will you try a new tack? What would Louisa want you to do and to say?'_

"I… want to say…" my throat felt like gravel, the gravel road that love had followed. "I…"

Louisa bit on her lip nervously.

I caught Ruth's eye as she rolled hers. "Come on Martin…" I saw Ruth's lined mouth make the words.

"Ah… Louisa and I…" They all took a breath and held it.

The grumpy doctor shook his head sadly. '_You're a changed man Ellingham,' _he saidas he faded out. The last he said was _'good. Good for you.' _But he took one last shot in farewell. _'Tosser,' _I heard and a grim laugh came out when he vanished.

"Yes?" squeaked out Louisa.

"I… wish to say, that I was only… doing my _job_…"

"The doctor doth protests too much, methinks," muttered Bert.

I looked down at him with a surprised look when I heard that.

"What? You think just because I got my start as a plumber, I don't know any Shakespeare quotes?" he sneered up at me. "That's Hamlet by God, sort of!"

"Act III, Scene II," I told him.

"Oh, I didn't know that part," Bert said sadly.

"Dad, it don't matter," said Al.

"Good!" Bert looked at me. "You got more to say, Doc?"

"Yes." The room held its breath again. "Thank you. Sincerely."

The room was filled by a collective gasp and then a shout of glee.

Bert's voice was loudest as he yelled, "Now, let's all eat!"

Roger slapped me on the back. "Fine speech, mate. You had me going for a minute, afraid you might give us all a lecture!"

Louisa kissed my cheek and that drew a few titters, but most had headed for food laden tables at the back. "Martin, that was…"

"Fine?" I asked.

"No, Martin. More than fine."

"I'm glad you think so," I said as I pried James from Morwenna and rubbed his back. "Hello James."

Louisa put an arm about my neck and kissed us each in turn. "Very fine," she whispered to us while the villagers fell on the tables piled with food like starving beasts and Roger's band starting playing at full volume.


	85. Chapter 85

Chapter 85 – Get On

"Mummy and Daddy are home." Louisa kept saying as she bounced James on her hip, the few times she was able to hold him that is, as various women kept taking him from her arms.

"Oh, he is _so_ cute!" they'd coo along with making other silly comments.

After one of those close encounters with James' too many admirers, I muttered, "I hope they're all healthy." I watched as women were hugging and kissing the baby, while Louisa kept a nervous eye on all the hand-offs. "Wonder when was the last time they washed their hands?"

"Martin you worry far too much," said Aunt Ruth to me, around a mouthful of scone and Cornish clotted cream.

I admonished her. "I can't believe you're eating those Ruth. Do you have any idea how much high density fat and cholesterol is in those? And that Saffron cake?"

"Oh, Martin," she chided me. "Calm down. Look at me, would you? There's not enough of me to hold me down in a strong wind." Ruth sniffed. "And I see you have been eating some of the _delicacies_ laid out. I can't call _Stargazy Pie_ low in fat, would you?" she sniffed.

I glanced down at my plate where the pile of pilchard and cod pieces, potatoes, swedes, and a few leeks lay with bits of pastry shell. "I'm only eating the fish and the vegetables."

Ruth shuddered. "I can't quite get up the nerve to eat a dish that stares at me." She was referring to the dish that baked whole fish and fillets with vegetables into a pastry shell with the fish heads staring straight up, a traditional dish made for the Tom Bawcock's Eve festival. "I don't eat the fish heads."

"Suit yourself." She lifted her glass of wine and quaffed it. "Can you get me some more? Red."

I rose from the table, took her glass and made my way across the crowded hall. Roger and his new band were playing away, and along with the chatting of too many people, the noise was deafening. The villagers were drinking, dancing, and chattering away, as I pushed through them. About every fifth or sixth one stopped me to comment on our wedding, the Mrs. T incident, or to say and how happy they were that we were staying in Portwenn. Around one in ten held out a hand to display a spot on their skin, a cut, or a lumpy burn or worse, or wished to discuss their bowel movements and inquired as to what it might me.

"Make an appointment," I had to bellow at them so they could hear.

"Oh yah, I'll do that," they usually replied. But some would argue how it would only take a minute, so I shoved past those.

I held out Ruth's glass to Al Large who was manning the bar table.

"Oy, Doc! I didn't know you was drinkin'!" he chuckled.

"My aunt. Red."

"Right." He picked up a bottle as I saw the Roaches girlfriend smile shyly at me from a stool.

"Hello, Doc," the girl said.

I nodded.

Al nodded at the frail thing. "Doc? You know Frieda?"

"Yes."

The girl brightened. "Al here is my mum's cousin, cousin! He's sorta' my family here in Portwenn."

Al grinned. "Not much of a relation." He gave me back Ruth's glass.

I looked the girl over. "You're well?"

"Yup. Ear's all healthy. Oh, there you are!" the girl shouted and threw herself at an over-muscled blonde giant of a man wearing the orange of the _lifeboat crew _who crushed the tiny thing into his arms.

"Sorry I'm late, luv!" the man, name of Swilly Littleton, laughed as he lifted the girl into his arms. "Had to make a run out. Some daft townie got onto the rocks." He set the girl down. "Hiya Doc!" He shook my hand in a crushing grip. "Thanks for caring for Frieda, here."

I nodded while confused between the obvious romantic connection of the the man and the girl and the gossip I'd overheard. "Sure. My job."

"All the same. Thanks! Now Frieda my girl, about that dance?" he dragged the girl away and from the manner he had his fleshy hand planted on her bum, it was clear they were a couple.

Al laughed at my dumb-founded expression. "Wot, doc? Don't believe all the gossip you might have been hearing about Frieda. Her and the Roach brothers? Nah. She just cleans their caravan, cooks and minds their books. They are dab hands at roofin' and ladders but they are daft buggers when it comes to money. Frieda might not look like it but she's got a head on her shoulders. Lightning calculator - in her head."

I turned from Al to the girl who was dancing so close to Swilly they might be joined atom to atom. "Where's…"

Al pointed. "Over there."

I followed the finger and saw Eric and Robert ensconced at a corner table drinking beer after beer.

"Those two," Al shook his head and whispered to me. "I don't think they would quite know what to do with a girl. Sorta backward. There those two poor sods are, forty-five if they're a day, and probably never touched a woman. Shy."

So much for gossip and hearsay. I picked up Ruth's filled glass and asked him, "Heard from Pauline?"

Al shook his head side to side. "Not often. I think she flew the coop," he moaned. "I thought that once…" he shook his head. "Ah, what the hell – plenty of fish in the sea. By the way, Ruth says you and she used to play chess - when you was a boy."

"Yes."

"Fancy a game sometime? With me?" He nervously scratched at his neck. "Figure you'll be busy and all, what with James and Louisa. Just sorta thought you might like to… but you might not want to… you bein' busy and all."

"Yes," I heard myself say. "We could do that."

"Really? Play chess?" Al said astonished. "Right."

I looked over at Louisa who was holding James. She smiled encouragingly at me across the crowded room. "We might set a regular time, once a month or so. Hard to say when, at this moment. But we could see how we…"

Al smiled. "Get on. Okay. Thanks Doc. I'll forward to it."

I returned to our table and Louisa whispered into my ear. "You were having quite a little chat with Al."

"I've just made a date with Al."

"Oh?"

"To play chess."

Louisa laughed. "No reason you can't, you know. I'll not get in the way. Have to do something besides work on clocks, try and heal sick villagers, change nappies, and…" her free hand patted my knee.

"I saw that." Ruth laughed at us. "I can see you two _are_ getting on. Getting on quite well." She lifted her glass. "Cheers."


	86. Chapter 86

Chapter 86 - Fairy Tale

Ruth snickered at us. "I have to say you two _have_ surprised me! Could have knocked me over with a feather, nephew, when you told me you were getting married."

"It was the thing to do," I said as I turned my head towards Louisa. "We… uhm… we do…"

Louisa took my hand and her voice came out haltingly. "I think, Ruth, that we have… well, we understood… that we should…"

Ruth nodded. "Come to an accommodation. Good for you." My aunt sighed and leaned forward. "As I said before, I had a chance…" her chin trembled, "or _two_. But as for you," she lifted her glass of wine to us. "I'll be watching to see how it all turns out. Cheers."

I found myself in a quite unusual spot in accepting praise of my actions in public. Granted it was from my aunt. "Uhm.." I squirmed. "You should know…"

"It's alright, Martin," Louisa whispered. "You don't have to say anything."

I was saved at that soppy moment by Roger and Maureen Fenn surrounding us, and giving us a collective hug as they dragged us to our feet.

"Oh, you two!" Maureen gushed. "Portwenn, is _sooo_ blessed to have the both of you."

Roger had a grip on my hand so hard it actually hurt. "You know, Martin, I was thinking that, well, if Louisa agrees, that the two of you, with James Henry as well, could come to our place for dinner. We'd love to have you over."

"Of course, that would be nice," Louisa said. "We'll make a date."

I nodded. "Fine." I'd arrived in Portwenn a virtual stranger; worse an outsider. And damn me I wanted it that way. I wanted to be miserable and I was. But, I'd seen this woman on the plane coming down her and somehow that changed everything. She now stood next to me wearing the wedding ring I bought her two weeks ago. I sighed.

"Martin is there a problem?" Louisa asked. "We don't have to stay at the party very much longer. We can leave if you wish."

I inclined my head to her. I smelled her shampoo and conditioner, the powdery hint of her makeup, and kenzo flower perfume, all warmed by her slender body; the remarkable biology machinery of life giving form and substance to everything that made up Louisa Glasson.

"Oh, _here_ they are," Bert Large exclaimed, handing James Henry over to Louisa. "I thought he might want to be with his mum. He had a dirty nappy, but I changed it." His friendly face was all smiles. "_And_ here's his daddy too. Ever thought you'd be one of those, Doc?"

Louisa nestled the baby against her neck and kissed him. "Hello little man." She yawned. "Sorry. Late night."

"Plenty of those to come, you know," laughed Roger. "These little guys do keep you busy. Our two have us on the run twenty-four seven."

James Henry gurgled and I thought back to that lonely tosser, who slunk into the village, trying to hide; hiding from himself and the wreck of his professional and personal life. Now that man was different - different in so many ways. It was safe to say that he had changed and so had the woman standing next to him.

"Doc?" Bert nudged me. "You haven't answered my question."

Louisa dropped her hand and took mine as Ruth looking at us favorably. Ruth apparently had shifted gears somewhat from her view that Louisa was bad for me, that surgery was what I should be doing, and preferably far from Cornwall. But now she was sitting at this impromptu party, but I suspect it had been planned for a very long time in secret, eating, drinking, and engaging in supportive comments. Even Ruth had been changed by Portwenn. Mylow called it the Portwenn Effect, and I think he was right.

"Yes, Martin," urged my aunt. "You should answer Mr. Large. _Did_ you expect you'd _ever_ be a father?" She rolled her glass from side to side next.

"Yes, Martin, that is a question, isn't it?" Louisa said. "But here's the baby, right?" She bounced James and he giggled. "Right, James Henry?"

Louisa looked up me, with our son's downy head against her cheek. Her hand stole down and took mine, where it hung slack. Her warm fingers interlaced with mine as I inhaled her fragrance. Each time she took my hand, it felt like warm liquid was coursing from my hand to my heart. Absolute rubbish, or course, it was sentimental mush to even think that. Blood was warm, along with lymph, and those fluids coursed in their appointed ways throughout my body, keeping me functioning and my intellect alive and aware, with synapses firing in my brain and central nervous system. Yet there was something in her touch that made me feel brighter, lighter, _and happier_.

"Martin?" Louisa said softly.

The warm feeling persisted and I sensed my heart beating faster, lungs pushing air in and out carrying carbon dioxide away and taking in oxygen - a simple gas exchange - yet without it I'd be as dead as the pilchards baked into the Stargazy Pie.

"Doc?" Bert asked, his Adam's apple bobbing. "So this fatherhood thing - it's hard - isn't it?" He laughed. "I know, I know, none of my business - but changing into a dad, that's hard. Am I right?"

Morwenna breezed up just then, waving a plate filled with tarts and sweets. "You're all looking so serious over here. I think you need some cake? Biscuits as well. Louisa, I put some chocolate digestives on it just for you."

Louisa grinned. "Just what I need are a few more calories."

Morwenna laughed. "Well… I know they're your favorite."

I looked about the room. The band was playing, people were chatting away, the heat from all the bodies had built up to furnace-like proportions and I smelled spilled beer, sweaty bodies, fried cod, James' fresh nappy, and cake along with Louisa's perfume. The crowd was drinking, laughing, having a good time, and I wondered how many cases of food poisoning and acute over indulgence I'd have to treat tomorrow and Monday. Oh little town of Portwenn. I could never imagine I would ever feel quite what I was feeling. Not quite as grumpy, not quite as an outsider; not quite so _alone_.

I excused myself and went to the men's room and in returning, I passed Clive Tishell.

He stood there with a beer mug in hand, his head bent down sadly. "Lo' Doc," he greeted me.

"Mr. Tishell."

"I want you to know, Doc, that I'm sorry. Sorry about everything! Maybe if I hadn't stayed out on the oil rig so many weeks at a time maybe… maybe, Sal, wouldn't have… got funny ideas? Ugh, what am I saying, Doc? I'm no great catch so no wonder Sal sorta' fixated on you, least ways that's what the consultant in Truro said last week. But I'm sorry, all the same. Thank God nothing real bad happened to little James. Sal and I tried for a bit to have kids, but it didn't ever work out." He sighed. "But that's all in the past. And Sally is getting better, now. Thank God for small favors."

"Good. Good. Mr. Tishell, the medical treatment may only be part of the problem."

Clive sighed. "I know, I know," he said sadly. "Still!" he brightened. "Maybe Sal and I will get that caravan some day and go all over. I hear Spain is very nice. Was it?"

I looked across the way and saw Louisa looking my way. "Yeah. It was."

"Oh, and more good news, Doc. The new chemist, Tim Snells, seems a right good sort. He's only been here a week, but he's mucked out the place and I'm right certain you can count on him. And Doc Bell, his girl, she was friendly and all, but she's not nearly as experienced as you - not yet. Who knows? Maybe someday she'll know half of what you do. But she won't be half as good, not by a damn sight."

That left me at a loss so I inclined my head.

"So, Doc. Doc Martin - thanks. Thanks from all of us. I know we're backward and all that, but where would we be without you?" He stuck out his hand and shook mine. "And your missus is sure looking over this way. I bet she'd be awful happy if you was to walk right over there and be with her." He patted my arm. "And take my word for it Doc - don't let the marriage bed get cold." He sniffed air through his beaky nose. "Now go get 'er!" His laughter followed me as I walked over to stand by Louisa.

"How's Mr. Tishell?" she asked as I took up station by her side and I grasped her hand gently.

"Seems to be doing well enough."

"Poor man," said Ruth. "Luckily, nothing bad happened."

Bert crossed his arms and nudged me with an elbow. "Now Doc. About my question. Fatherhood. Did you figure it would ever happen?"

"You tell me, Bert," I bristled. "What did you think?"

"Bit of a shock, right?" Bert said. "But when little Al come started growing and all, well, that was…"

"Marvelous?" I asked.

Bert laughed. "Yeah! Yeah, Doc. Just like that. Marvelous." He cast his face to the rafters. "Marr - vell - ouss. Yeah. I like that word."

Louisa's warm hand was in mine and I reached out to touch James' cheek. "I do as well."

James was drooping in Louisa's arms and I knew I was tired. "Perhaps we should head home," I suggested.

"I'd hate to leave early," Louisa said. "This has been nice," she yawned. "But I am knackered."

Ruth nodded. "I'm sure you are all tired. I had Penhale take your cases over to the surgery, and Morwenna and Al took all the baby rig over as well this morning. So welcome home you two. I'll stay for a while." She looked at her empty glass. "I think more wine is needed."

Louisa and I crept away, and managed to get to the door before we were intercepted. But it was only Al Large who was taking out a bin of refuse.

"Bye you two, er, three," Al said. "Back to reality. Not much fairy tale about Portwenn is there? Not many maidens in trouble or princes riding to the rescue, is there?'

I looked hard at Louisa and her smiling face gave me courage to say what I needed to say. "No, Al, You're quite wrong." I took up Louisa's hand and felt that magical jolt travel into my chest.

Louisa laughed at my comment and carrying our son we walked home.

"You meant that, Martin? Somehow I didn't think you'd say anything quite that romantic." Louisa asked while I unlocked the surgery door. "Somehow, I didn't think you ever would."

I turned my head and surveyed the harbor and boats, the houses going all higgly-piggly up the hill, the sea air tickling my nose. "Even I can be surprising, Louisa."

She grinned at me as she went inside. "Oh, I know, Martin. I have found that out."

I stepped inside and was assaulted by a small white and brown dog who leapt onto my trousers, muddying them with his paws. "Oh, God!"

"Buddy's been digging in the potted palm in the lounge, Martin!" Louisa cried out.

Then her laughter echoed off the harbor as I shouted. "Bad dog! Bad dog!"

THE END

**L' Envoi**

"**Do you think Martin and Louisa will ever marry? But he does love that baby." My mom asked me that several times, and I always said yes. She liked Doc Martin just as much as I do.**

**I started this story in May 2012 and I wanted to wait until it was done to show it to my mom, although she knew I was working on it as I had told her bits and pieces. **

**At the end this story is for her. For all the tales I never told her, I dedicate this story to my mother - Kathryn S. - who left us at age 87, at an age far too young on Sep. 10, 2012.**

"**Robby, do you think Martin and Louisa will ever marry?" she'd ask.**

**Yes Mom, I do and I hope you'd have liked my version of possible future events in the land of Portwenn.**

**000**

**I wish to thank all the faithful Doc Martin readers for their interest, enthusiasm, thoughtful comments and messages. Your comments and messages have made me think quite hard at times and you've made me work harder! :)**

**A special thank you I send to out to my friends **_**fanficfan71**_**, **_**Bodmin**_**, **_**Boots1980**_**, **_**ggo85**_**, **_**GriffinStar**_**, **_**jd517**_** and **_**Snowsie2011**_** for helping me in so many ways through the last few months.**

**000**

**The characters, places and situations of **_**Doc Martin,**_** are owned by Buffalo Pictures. This story places no claim of remuneration or ownership, nor do I make any attempt to infringe upon any rights of the owners or producers.**

**Rob - robspace54**

**p.s. Merry Christmas and Happy New Year**


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